


Reprise and Repeat

by BrownieFox



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Character Death Mentioned, Eventual Character Death, Funeral, Gen, Oneshot Series, definitely inaccurate time period, mechanics and military n stuff, military stuff, more characters/tags added as they come up, pre-transition rabbit, robots get injured in this fic, so he/him pronouns for rabbit, warning i know very little about like
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:06:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23019766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: The life of Peter A. Walter V, an ex-orphan with a legacy to live up to.A fic detailing Peter’s life starting after Three’s death and through all that follows, learning how to be a part of a family again, where his place is in it, and what that means.Chapter 1-3 - ReunionChapter 4-6 - Daily life in Walter Manor (Age 9)Chapter 7-9 - Upgrades and ReturnsChapter 10-12 - Four at Walter ManorChapter - 13 - Staff Interviews
Relationships: Peter Walter IV & Peter Walter V, Peter Walter IV & Wanda Becile, Peter Walter V & Norman Becile, Peter Walter V & Rabbit, Peter Walter V & The Jon, Peter Walter V & The Spine, Peter Walter V & Wanda Becile
Comments: 18
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

At the orphanage, they call him Peter. 

He was carried to the orphanage in strong metal arms, metal fingers combing through his hair. He felt more than heard the song singing coming from the metal man, little hands wrapped around the soft fabric of the man’s shirt and waistcoat. A little ways away, his great uncle sat in a wheelchair, pushed by another metal man. Outside of the orphanage, a plump woman with a nice smile greeted them and Five tried to disappear into the metal man’s chest. He was handed off to his great uncle, who cried and kissed him, and the two metal men leaked oil from their eyes. And then they left, Five held in the kindly woman’s arms as he reached out for them, calling their names. 

Five is introduced to the other orphans as Peter Walter, the ‘five’ part of his name left out completely.

The first time he’s called Peter, he doesn’t answer to it.

The fourth time he’s called Peter, he reluctantly acknowledges it.

The fiftieth time he’s called Peter, Five punches the kid in the nose and screams that his name is Five.

When Peter is eight, he daydreams during math classes and no longer flinches when the number five is said. 

At age nine, a woman and a metal man stand at the door of the orphanage asking for Five.

oOo

“Peter?” 

Peter jumps in his seat. He’d been staring out the window, ignoring class rather diligently up until that point. It’s english right now, and he’s not only rather bad at english but it also bores him to death.

Standing in the doorway of the classroom is the matron of the orphanage. Peter quickly tries to run through anything he’s done that would warrant the attention of the matron. He’d stopped himself from fiddling with the wires that lead to the lightswitch in his room, he was and still is sure that the missing lightbulb to wouldn’t be missed, and if nobody had found out about the wires he’d taken from the microwave by now he was sure they never would.

“Yes?” Peter stands up, and the matron waves him over. Out in the hall, she kneels down, looks him over, and then gives him a hug. Confused, Peter just stands there. When she pulls away, he can see that she’s crying a bit, though she wipes away the tears fairly quickly.

“Peter, it seems that your great uncle has died.” She tells him. 

The only thing Peter can remember about his great uncle is that he was also named Peter Walter. Due to his great uncle’s health problems, he’d been deemed unfit to take care of Peter, and thus Peter was sent to the orphanage. Peter wants to feel upset or sad about the news, but it doesn’t feel like anything. It is sad that somebody died, but it felt distant, like it was an old story in an old book from years and years ago.

“Okay.” Peter says and prepared to go back into the classroom. The matron stops him. He’s more confused than ever.

“Peter… oh, come with me.” 

Peter follows the matron to her office, and there’s two people standing in there. No. One person and one robot. 

There are some things that Peter is aware of. He’s aware that he’s related to the Walter Family of Walter Robotics, and that there are tales of amazing mechanical men that had been created decades ago but hadn’t been seen for some time now. But it is another thing entirely to be faced with them. 

It’s not as if he’s had no contact. Sometimes, he’d get letters from his Aunt Wanda, and a present around his birthday or Christmas, but that was about it. 

Now his aunt stands before him along with an amazing metal man of legend. 

“Five!” His aunt cries, and falls to her knees. Peter knows what he’s supposed to do; he’s supposed to run and jump into her arms, and cry and cry and cry. Peter steps over, and he does hug her, but he doesn’t cry, and he’s only done that much because he knows its expected of him, it’s what the situation is supposed to call for. 

“Hi Aunt Wanda.” He says when she finally pulls away, trying futilely to stop the flow of tears. 

“It’s time to come home.” She tells him. 

That doesn’t make sense.

If the state wouldn’t let her and his great uncle look after him before, why would they now that it was just her and the robotos? 

“But, I thought you weren’t good enough?” Is what he says, with the least bit of tact, before he can stop himself. 

“It’s your house now, I’d like to see them try and take it away.” The robot says. His voice is deep and rumbly, more real sounding than Peter had expected. 

“Three wanted to make sure you could come home.” Wanda explains. “It’s all yours now: the company, the manor, and… everything that comes with them.” Wanda looks back at the robot, who nods. 

“Five, why don’t we go pick up your things? I’m sure you’re dying to get home.” The robot suggests. Peter nods, and then looks over at Wanda and the matron.

“Go on, your aunt and I will make sure everything is in order.” The matron assures him. 

All of the kids are still in class, so they don’t run into anybody as the robot follows Peter to his room. He shares -  _ shared -  _ it with nine other boys. All of his belongings lay underneath his bed - clothes, pictures, pencils, projects - and he pulls it all out. The robot stoops and picks it all up for him. 

“Is this all your things, Five?” The robot asks.

“Peter.” Peter says instead of answering. The robot blinks at him, the metal eyelids sliding shut and opening up with the very faintest of clicks. There’s a constant bit of almost tapping coming from the entire robot as its gears work, and periodically a jet of steam came from its back. Steam powered? 

“Peter?” The robot repeats, the name itself a question asking for an explanation.

“Peter.” Peter repeats. “I’ve… you all used to call me Five, right?” The robot nods. “I’ve been Peter for longer, though. My name is Peter.” 

“Of course,” The robot nods. He seems to consider something. “I suppose you were only ever called Five due to there being so many Peter’s around, but with Two dead and Four in the Marines, you are the only Peter around right now.” Peter nods. As long as he’s called Peter, he doesn’t care much about the logistics and reasons. 

“And, uh,” Peter fidgets, looking at his feet, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

“Yes?” The robot encourages.

“What’s, uh, your... name?” He finally gets out. The robot is silent for a moment and Peter looks up, afraid he’s offended the metal man. The robot’s expression is unreadable at first, but then slowly he smiles, in stiff and jerky movements coming to kneel down before Peter. 

“I am the Spine. Colonel Walter built me with a titanium alloy spine, and I’m glad to finally see you again.” 


	2. Peter and the Occupants of Walter Manor

A List of Thing Peter Knows About His Family

  1. His dad died in a car crash and his mom died giving birth to him
  2. There have been four other people named Peter A. Walter that came before him
  3. Walter Robotics is a company
  4. People say they have metal men 
  5. Peter can remember very shiny men with very cold hands and steam that tickled his face
  6. Wanda and Four still send him letters and presents
  7. The government doesn't think any of them are in a place where they can take care of him



oOo

The Walter Manor is very big. Very _very_ big.

The car ride from the orphanage to the manor had been long. His Aunt Wanda had filled the space by talking to the Spine about this and that, and Peter was relieved that she didn’t talk to him. He still isn’t sure how he feels about her or about all of this. Oh, he knows he doesn’t want to be an orphan, and he’s happy to have a home, but he can’t help squirming in his seat and looking at the road behind him. His friends were still in class when he left, and they probably wouldn’t find out what happened to him unless the matron tells them. 

The Spine insists on carrying all of Peter’s things, telling him he’ll show him to his room. 

Wanda stays behind, saying she has some things to take care of first. She says it with a kind smile and a ruffle of his hair. Her eyes are still kind of red. 

Peter stays close to the Spine as they go through the hallways, up three flights of stairs, and at last come to a room about the size as the last one he’d lived in. In a lot of ways, though, it was like it was much bigger, considering that he’d shared that last room with so many other kids, and this one is his and only his. It looks even bigger considering that there is just a bed, a bookcase, a dresser, and a mirror. 

“You’ll fill it up.” The Spine says with such assurity, and Peter jumps. It’s like the Spine had read his mind. The Spine doesn’t seem offended by Peter’s jumpiness, just smiles again as he sets the clump of things on the floor, picking through them and sorting them into different piles. His hands still for a moment before picking up a curious bundle composed mostly of wires.

“It’s nothing!” Peter yelps and snatches it out of the metal hand. Or at least, he tries to, his attempt momentarily stalled by the fact that a hand made of metal has a much stronger grip than Peter’s little hands, but the Spine lets go and allows Peter to take the clump. 

“What is it?” The Spine asks curiously. Peter flushes and stuffs it behind his back. 

“Nothing!” Peter insists, and can’t stop himself from muttering, “Nothing compared to you.” 

The Spine keeps looking at Peter. He has bright bright green eyes, and it strikes Peter that they are probably literally bright, when the lights are lower. Slowly, Peter takes the thing out from behind his back and holds it out to Spine. It’s nothing special, really. There’s a bundle of wires, a watch he stole off a stranger, and lightbulb. He watches as the Spine brings the loose end of the wire clump up to the lightbulb, completing the circuit and making it light up. 

“It’s dumb!” Peter buries his face in his hands. 

“It’s amazing.” The Spine says. Peter feels a hand land on his shoulder. He peeks out from behind his hands. The Spine puts the world’s dumbest flashlight down. 

“You know, my father did not make me in a day.” He reminds Peter. He stands, and looks around the room, and the smiles down on the Spine one more time. “Call out if you need anything, I’ll give you time to settle in. I’ll come back up and bring you down for dinner.”

Peter watches the robot leave, walking with steps that aren’t quite jerky but aren’t quite smooth, and looks back down at his little dumb science project.

He sets to work putting his clothes away.

oOo

Peter puts his clothes away, then puts his books away, and then stuffs the jumble of wires under his bed where hopefully nobody else will see it. He spends the next few hours wandering around the house. It’s familiar in a fuzzy kind of way, in a distant way that’s hard to make sense of. 

He remembers a lot of metal. 

He’s sure of that. 

Metal arms holding him. A metal hand too big for him to fit his own around but he tries anyway. Metal shoulders he’s been hoisted up on and a metal neck he grabs for balance. He doesn’t get yelled at when it’s metal. His dad said not to do that, that he’d choke him, but the metal neck doesn’t care. 

There is no metal now. The Spine hadn’t returned, and the clock on the wall had said that it was only four, at least another hour until dinner. 

There are a lot of rooms, but Peter has the sense not to enter them. Some have titles written on them, some have curtains instead of doors, some have no doors at all. The halls twist and turn and there’s far too many stairways. Peter looks behind him and swears that it doesn’t look the same as it had just seconds ago.

It isn’t long until Peter is hopelessly lost. 

He doesn’t want to turn around and go back, because it’ll be even more clear just how lost he is when he can’t find his way to his room. If he keeps going forward, though, then he might get even more lost. He was going to stay forever lost in this house, and starve to death, and then the only Peter alive was going to be Four and then he was going to die in the Marines and that would be the end of that. 

“Hello?” Peter calls out, turning in a tight circle. “Is… is there anybody here?” It’s such a big house, why hadn’t he run in to maid or something yet? Surely there had to be more people living here. “The Spine? Aunt Wanda?!” 

Peter turns around and then yelps, falling onto his butt. There’s somebody standing in one of the doorways - one that didn’t have a door or curtain - that hadn’t been there before. It’s not Wanda, and it’s not the Spine. In a million years, Peter would never have mistaken the person for the Spine, even though he was another robot. This one is more of a light brown, almost golden, in contrast to the sleek silver of the Spine. He also has a lot more hair than the Spine, curly and coming out from the top hat he wore. 

There’s a moment where the two just look at each other, and then the biggest grin breaks out across the robots face as it essentially pounces forward, wrapping its arms around Peter tightly. Peter yelps again, but the grip is too strong to break out of.

“You’re here! You’re back!” The robot cheers. 

“Y-yeah.” Peter squeaks, not able to get much air into his lungs considering the tight grip. The robot notices this and lets go of Peter, sitting back and still grinning so widely it was a miracle his entire face didn’t split in half.

“Five, you’re home again!” The robot informs Peter. Peter takes a few deep breaths, now that he is able to again, and nods.

“Peter.” He corrects. Like when he’d corrected the Spine, the robot blinks blankly at him for a moment, grin falling for just a moment, but then it comes back up with just as much brilliance as before.

“Peter, you’re home again!” The robot amends. 

“Yeah, I am.” Peter agrees, though he’s a little hesitant to use the word ‘home’ just yet. He is certainly in this mansion, though. He stands slowly and carefully, watching to robot to see if he’ll bowl him over again. The robot seems content to just look at Peter. “Uh, while you’re here, could you show me to the dining room? I don’t want to be late for dinner, but, um, I think I’m a little… lost.” 

The robot stands with a little hop, nodding as if nothing would make him happier. 

“Of course, of course. You’ll want to be careful, you know. Tricky little house we have here. Might want to make sure you have a travel buddy until you get better at that. One of us used to always watch you when you were just a baby so that you didn’t wander into any place that might be dangerous. But you’re so big now!” The robot rambles, walking down the hall, and Peter does his best to keep up with the fast pace. 

“Yeah, that was a long time ago.” Peter sighs. “Uh, can I ask something?”

“Always! My brothers and I are here to help you.” The robot assures Peter.

“What’s your name?” 

This, too, is a lot like when he asked the Spine for his name. The smile on the robot’s face falls and he comes to a stop, looking down at Peter as if he expected him to suddenly announce that he was kidding and most certainly remembered the robot’s name. But he didn’t, so he doesn’t, and then the robot seems to steal itself to perk up, smile a little more forced than before. 

“I’m the Jon.” The Jon tells Peter. “I was the third automaton your great-grandfather built.” 

“Sorry.” Peter says. He feels bad for making the robot feel bad. 

“Nothing to be sorry about! You were so small, you know. It’s to be expected, I guess. It’s… for you it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The Jon says and looks at Peter as if expecting Peter to correct him on this. Peter isn’t sure how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

They walk in silence the rest of the way back to the dining room. Peter swears they go down four flights of stairs, which should make no sense at all, but he’s hungry and too confused at the moment to give it much thought. 

The Spine and Aunt Wanda are already in the dining room. It’s a simple room, the most ornate thing being the carving of the chairs. The table is fairly long, with the right amount of chairs for something of its length, but it makes for more than enough spots. Unless the maids or staff eat too? It reminds Peter that he has yet to see anybody other than the robots and his Aunt Wanda. 

The Spine and Aunt Wanda are so caught up in their conversation that they don’t notice the Jon and Peter at first. 

“I’m just worried about him. I haven’t seen him since, y’know…” Aunt Wanda says. THe Spine shakes his head.

“He’ll come around. It’s just hard for him. I don’t think he ever got over Father.” The Spine sounds sad. 

“The Spine, look who I found!” The Jon breaks into the conversation, picking up Peter and holding him up to show to the Spine. The tense conversation that had been going on drops as the attention is shifted over to Peter, who squirms a bit in the Jon’s hands. 

“Yes, I meant to tell you, we picked up Peter today.” The Spine nods to the Jon and Peter. Aunt Wanda opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but the Spine looks at her and she slowly closes it, apparently coming to some kind of understanding there. 

“Well, you’re just in time for dinner. I was about to send the Spine up to get you.” Aunt Wanda gestures to the chairs, taking a seat in one herself. “Until you’re more familiar with the house, I’d suggest not wandering too much. It can be a litte, ah, confusing for those who aren’t used to it.” His aunt says about an hour too late. Peter nods anyway. She then turns to the two robots. “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?” 

“Nothing would make me happier.” The Jon chirps, plopping down in the chair next to Peter. 

“I’m going to go look for Rabbit.” The Spine says, shaking his head. “I’m sure knowing Peter is here will cheer him up.”

“Give him my love.” Aunt Wanda says and waves at the Spine as he leaves the dining room. “Oh, I hope the dear is alright.” 

“Rabbit?” Peter asks, excited at the prospect of having a pet. Before his Aunt Wanda could answer, though, a monster entered the room. 

The monster is one of the creepiest - and thus also one of the coolest - things that Peter has ever seen. The robots are very cool, but they look like people. The monster has an eye that looks like it’s been placed on his face at an angle. There are weird spike-like things that come out of its back, and it stands with a hunch. One hand has an oven mitt over it, and the other is carrying a platter with a steaming roast. 

“Fi- uh, Peter, please let me-” His aunt started when she realized that the monster was in the room.

“WHOA!” Peter shouts, standing back up and staring at the monster. This is _way_ cooler than finding out if they have a pet bunny or something. 

“Peter the Fifth, right?” The monster asks. His voice is all gravelly and rough. If Peter didn’t know better he’d think the monster sounded nervous, but monsters couldn’t get nervous.

“We have monsters? That’s so cool!” Peter says to his aunt and runs over to the monster man. 

“Peter, he’s not a monster.” His aunt chastizes, but the monster man laughs and waves her off.

“It’s okay Wanda.” He assures her. He sets the roast on the table and then faces Peter. “I’m not a monster, just a guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He puts out his hand that isn’t in the overmitt out for Peter to shake, and Peter does just that.

“Your eye’s really weird.” Peter informs him and the monster man laughs again. 

“It is!” He agrees. “Scares a lot of people. I’m Norman Becile.” 

“I’m Peter.” Peter replies, leaving the Five out altogether. 

“Want to see something creepy?” Norman asks and Peter nods vigorously. Norman slips off his overmitt to reveal that his fingers are actually little lobster claws. They snap playfully at Peter’s own fingers. 

“That’s so neat!” Peter emphasizes.

Norman looks up from Peter to look at Wanda, and he doesn’t miss the relieved look they share with each other. 

“Well, if we’re all here, it’s time for dinner.” Aunt Wanda declares. Norman nods. 

“Do the rest of the staff not eat with us?” Peter sits back down in his seat. 

“Usually my brothers are here,” The Jon says, “But we don’t need to eat.” 

“And if they know what’s good for them they won’t try it.” Aunt Wanda says rather pointedly and the Jon ducks his head. 

“But… our house is so big! Isn’t there staff or anything?” Peter presses. His aunt looks down at her plate sadly.

“Not these days, Peter. It’s just us.” 

It was just them.

Years of living in a room with nine other boys, in a building that housed a hundred tightly packed together people, and now it is just them.


	3. Rabbit and Peter

Peter can’t sleep.

He does a lot of staring at the ceiling. There is plenty of rolling back and forth in his bed in an attempt to get comfortable. And eventually he stands up and comes to the decision that he isn’t getting any sleep right now, o he might as well try that thing he’d always heard people talk about. Warm milk was supposed to help you go to bed, right? And he had a house now, and he could try and have warm milk. 

The house is a lot scarier at night. Peter drags his blanket off of his bed and wraps it around himself. He’d taken a lot more care in watching how to get to his room when the Jon had led him back to his room after dinner. Well, not quite after dinner. Right after dinner, they’d all gone into another room that had some large and comfy armchairs and a fireplace that wasn’t lit and some shelves of books. Aunt Wanda had sat down and read a book while Peter asked Norman about what he could and couldn’t do.

(Norman can snap each of his little crab claws separately from each other, and has figured out how to click them to make almost songs. He cannot lay down on his back anymore because of the spikes.)

Right, left, then another left, down two flights of stairs, go down the hallway… was it right or left after that?

Peter gives a huff of frustration, glaring at the split in the hallway in front of him. Why had his great-grandfather seen fit to build such a big house? He may not be very familiar with his family tree, but there was no way there’d ever been much more people in it than there is right now. Well, right was about as good as any direction. Peter’s almost convinced that turning around could get him to end up somewhere completely different too. 

As it turns out, right is the right way, as it brings Peter to the spiral staircase down that ends up on the first floor of the building. Peter smiles to himself. This isn’t going to be so bad. He can figure this out. Now he just has to find the kitchen, but it must be close to the dining room, and he can find his way there. 

“-miss him so much!” 

Peter stops in his track at the wail, then slowly inches forward so that he can peak into the dining room. Like the rest of the house, the lights have been turned off, but there’s a candelabra with the candles lit and burning, the flickering light just enough that Peter can make out Norman and Aunt Wanda. Aunt Wanda has her face buried into her hands, clearly sobbing, as Norman rubs circles into her back with his non-clawed hand. 

“I know.” He assures her. 

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this!” Aunt Wanda lifts her head from her hands long enough to cry up towards the ceiling and then covers her face again. “Four was supposed to be back. Four was supposed to get Five back. _Three was supposed to still be here!_ ”

“I know.” Norman mumbles again. 

“Norman, what am I going to do?” She asks him. Norman doesn’t answer, just leans closer, and she leans into him. 

Peter steps away from the dining room. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen. Maybe he should’ve just stayed in his room. This wasn’t really his house, this wasn’t really his home. Peter pulls the blanket so that it’s over his head, like a big cloak, and starts to make his way back to his room. 

He stumbles up the first flight of stairs, then makes his way to the next set and up one of the two he needs to ascend. And then Peter sees _it._

On the stairwell, there’s a big window in between each floor. Peter gasps and ducks his head down. Moonlight isn’t coming through the window. There’s something blocking it. Something standing on the other side of the window. Peter ducks down, keeping his eyes on the silhouetted figure. All he can see clearly are points of glowing green and blue. 

It’s his night time stalker. 

It’s followed him here.

He’s never been so awake and seen it. Usually it’s out of the corner of his eye as he went to the bathroom in the middle of the night, still half asleep, disappearing whenever he turned his head to look directly at it. He’d managed to convince himself it was just a figment of his imagination, but he’s wide awake, and he knows that glow of green and blue. 

Peter stays crouched down as the shadowy figure moves upward, feet knocking against the window as it climbs farther up the building. Peter has a feeling he knows where its heading. For a second he thinks about going back downstairs. Maybe he should find Aunt Wanda and drag her to his room. Or the Spine or the Jon. 

Peter thinks about Aunt Wanda, crying. No, he can’t interrupt her. He’s probably caused enough problems already without even realizing it. 

Well, if the stalker hasn’t hurt him yet, why would it now?

Peter keeps climbing the stairs, heading for his room. Maybe it won’t be there when he reaches his room, and he’s more sleepy that he thinks he is, or maybe he’s even dreaming right now. Creepy night stalkers didn’t exist.

Peter pauses mid step on the stairs as he remembered that Norman, kind as he was, existed while looking like a monster.

So maybe not-so-nice stalker monsters did exist.

He forces himself to keep climbing the stairs. 

When Peter reaches his room again, he peeks into it instead of actually walking in. Apparently it’s too much to hope that the stalker wouldn’t be there. There’s a window right by his bed, and the silhouette can be seen standing there, on the thin window ledge on the outside. Blue and green pinpricks jump around as it looks around the room. Once again, Peter thinks about running all the way back down to Aunt Wanda.

The figure fiddles with the window, and then it opens outwards. For a second it looks like they’ll fall, but they manage to stay on the ledge and then climb into the room, immediately going to the bed and pawing at the empty space there. 

“... no. N-n-no-o-o.” 

The word is said the words with a stutter. The head of the figure lifts up, scanning the room, and Peter pulls his head back into the hallway, holding his breath.

“No…! Five, h-h-he can’t be g-g-g-g-one too!” 

Peter peeks back into the room, and the glowing green and blue land on him. Peter freezes, as does the stalker, and then it collapses onto Peter’s bed, a burst of steam coming from it.

Oh.

Peter makes his way to standing completely in the doorway, and the stalker - the robot - stands up, then falls to his knees, arms open. It isn’t in the expectant way Aunt Wanda had done when she’d picked him up from the orphanage. This looks almost like he is begging for Peter to come over. 

Peter slowly approaches, the only light in the room coming from the moon through the window, making it hard to really pick out what the robot looks like. Like the other two robots, he wears red and black clothes. His face is a copper color, parts of it more green than copper. 

“Five.” The robot says quietly. Peter doesn’t go in for the hug, but he does nod at his not-quite-name, and the robot takes that for what it is, letting his arms drop.

“It’s Peter, actually.” Peter informs him. The robot nods.

“Peter.” He repeats. A metallic hand runs down the robot’s face. “You’re okay. You’re still-still here.” 

“Where else would I be?” Peter asks. The robot shrugs. 

“Where do humans g-g-g-go when they die?” He questions.

Peter doesn’t know how to answer that. Peter doesn’t even know where to start. But luckily the robot doesn’t seem like he actually expects an answer.

The young boy looks to the door of his room again, contemplating going and finding another room with a bed that he can sleep in for the night, seeing as this one has a robot in it that doesn’t look like he’s going to move anytime soon. Would he leave if Peter asked him? Did Peter really _want_ him to leave?

The robot’s head rolls back to face the ceiling, another burst of steam coming from his mouth, and Peter makes a decision.

Peter’s night stalker is real, and Peter sits right next to him.

“You used to come to the orphanage at night, didn’t you.” Peter says. It’s not really a question, despite how it’s phrased. The robot doesn’t try to deny it. 

“C-c-couldn’t lose you,” The robot replies, “Had to make s-s-s-sure you were still there.” 

Peter isn’t sure how he feels about that. About a robot who’s been staring at him in the middle of the night, watching him sleep. Peter knows it’s creepy, and weird, and also kind of nice to know that he had been worried about him. So it all comes out to being just… nothing. To not being sure how to feel. 

“What’s your name?” Peter asks the robot. This robot doesn’t look surprised like the others had.

“R-r-r-rabbit.” He introduces himself. “The Spine says you-you go by P-p-peter.” 

“I do.” Peter says, and stops himself from pointing out that Rabbit had already called him Five despite that knowledge. “Why were you climbing the outside of the building? I mean, I can understand why you couldn’t come into the orphanage, but this is your house.” 

“Your house.” Rabbit corrects. “I didn’t w-w-want to risk w-w-waking you.” 

“Well, you don’t need to worry about that.” Peter huffs, adjusting the blanket around him. He catches the robots curious glances and sighs before elaborating, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”

“Humans need sleep.” Rabbit points out. Peter rolls his eyes.

“I know that. But this place is too quiet.” Peter explains, and Rabbit shifts so that he can look at Peter better, head cocked to the side. 

“Miss Wanda needs quiet t-t-t-to sleep. As does Four, and Three…” When Rabbit says three, his voice gets softer, the lights in his eyes dimming for a moment before coming back into full color. 

“At the orphanage, there were a lot of people in my room. I got used to the snoring, and the people staying up late and whispering, and when it was windy sometimes the walls would creak, and… it’s so quiet here.” Peter closes his eyes and listens. 

It’s not as quiet as it had been before. Now, there is the sound of moving parts, of gears grinding against each other, the occasional hiss of steam escaping from a vent. It is the sound of Rabbit next him, the sounds Rabbit makes simply by existing. Peter likes those sounds.

“You need-need sound to sleep?” Rabbit asks. Peter nods. Rabbit nods back. He stands up and points to the bed. “Get in.” 

Peter does as he’s told. If nothing else, it is more comfortable than sitting on the floor. Rabbit goes over to the window, which is still wide open, and sits down on the ledge. 

“You sh-should get more th-th-things for your room.” Rabbit comments. Peter shrugs. 

“It’s too much space to fill up.” He says, and Rabbit shakes his head.

“N-not for long. You’ll see.” 

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the sound of Rabbit’s normal processors working. Then, they speed up just a bit, and then,

Then Rabbit sings. It sound familiar, something that Peter had heard on the radio once or twice. The matron had always loved the singer, said he had a voice of pure velvet.

_“My story is much too sad to be told, but practically everything, leaves me totally cold,”_

Rabbit sings the song, and the stutter that has plagued the robot for their entire conversation is gone as if it never existed, the words flowing from his mouth almost effortlessly. 

When Rabbit reaches the end of the song, he starts another one, slow and quiet and soothing. Peter feels himself starting to nod off, no longer along in his room, no longer surrounded by the oppressive silence. His room is a little bit on the cool side with the window open as it is, and Peter snuggles more into his comforter. 

Peter sleeps soundly his first night back at Walter Manor. 

And in the morning, he wakes up to find himself still in good company. Though Rabbit’s head hangs down, unmoving and silent, the other two robots came at some point in the night, and they take turns keeping music in the room.

Peter pretends to stay asleep just to keep listening to them.


	4. A Normal Day (Age 9)

A List of Thing About Walter Manor

  * There is no staff, so they have to keep things clean themselves
  * Wanda leaves for work around 8 a.m.
  * Don’t go into any room that you’re not familiar with
  * Stay away from the basement
  * The robots are trustworthy and good company
  * The robots sometimes forget human are squishy, so be careful
  * If you need help, call out and a robot will definitely find you
  * Neither Wanda nor Norman know how it’s always the John that’ll show up
  * Ms. Wilson will hold class in the dining room
  * Don’t scare Ms. Wilson away
  * Bedtime is 9 p.m., but lights out is 10 p.m.



oOo

Peter wakes with a stretch and a yawn - then an accidental roll out of bed, landing on the floor with a ‘oof’. 

“Very graceful.” 

Peter lifts his head from the floor to glare at the Spine. Apparently the Spine was the last one on ‘shift’ last night. After that first night, the three robots had taken turns singing for Peter during the night. Sure, a radio could probably work just as well, but the one radio they have is apparently in Aunt Wanda’s room, and the robots insist that it’s not a problem in the slightest. 

“Yeah, laugh it up.” Peter grumbles as he gets to his feet. “I gotta get changed, so can you,” Peter makes a shooing motion with his hand. The Spine just seems amused as he leaves the room, going through the doorway. None of them have come through the window since that first night. Or at least, Peter hasn’t seen them do that. Some mornings the window  _ is  _ open even though it had been closed that night, but Peter can’t prove anything. Yet. 

It was also only the morning of Peter's second day at Walter Manor that he’d realized that his room was one of the ones without a door. A door has yet to be installed, but Peter had managed to get a curtain.

The drawers of Peter’s dresser have a lot more clothes in it now. The trip to the store with Aunt Wanda on Peter’s third day at Walter Manor had been almost boring, but it had been nice to pick out new clothes and new shoes, all fresh and clean, and filling out the empty space in the drawers. Where there had been one pair of socks, there is now seven. Where there had be only three shirts before, there is now twenty. It’s more shirts than Peter has ever owned. 

The rest of the room is still very empty, and still very big. There are curtains on the window, and shoes in neat rows off to the side, but that’s as far as it went. Peter still doubts what Rabbit had said. It’s too much space, he’s just one person. Maybe he’ll ask Aunt Wanda if there’s a smaller room he can have. 

Peter gets dressed quickly, picking a pair of pants and a shirt and foregoing shoes. He doubts he’ll leave the manor today, and even if he does he doubts even more than he’ll leave the manor grounds. 

He moves the curtain aside, stepping into the hallway, and Peter begins his fifth day in Walter Manor.

Peter knows one way down to the first floor. He’s seen the other residents of the house go other ways, and they’re usually faster but they’re also a lot more confusing so Peter sticks with the way he knows. He’s even written down the route, just in case he forgets it. Better safe than sorry, after all. 

It is an early 7:30 in Walter Manor by the time Peter makes it to the dining room. Aunt Wanda is sitting on the side of the table farthest from the kitchen door. Norman is there too, both of them eating omelettes with a third one already sitting out and waiting for Peter. Norman seems to do most of the cooking in the house. At the very least, he’s prepared all of the meals so far, the only exception being when they’ve had cereal for breakfast or simple sandwiches for lunch. Even then, though, Norman is there to point out which cupboards hold what Peter needs. 

The Jon and the Spine are sitting at the table too. They don’t eat, which makes a lot of sense, but they do both have glasses of water. Have to keep their boilers going, they had explained. It was as close to a meal as they could get. Rabbit had yet to show up during a meal, only making himself known at night to sing to Peter. The others only seemed a little worried about this. Aunt Wanda told Peter that Rabbit was in mourning and taking it hard, and Rabbit had told Peter personally that if he ever needed him during the day then he could probably be found at the duck pond.

Peter didn’t really know  _ where  _ the duck pond was, but it still was cool to have that kind of information entrusted to him. 

“Good morning, Peter.” Aunt Wanda greets, almost done eating already. Her hair is all pulled up into a bun and she’s wearing a fairly simple dress. Norman, as per usual, is only wearing pants since shirts apparently do not work well with back spikes. 

“Morning Aunt Wanda.” Peter replies, sitting down and digging into his omelette. 

“You’ll be good for Ms. Wilson today?” She asks, as she has the past two mornings, and Peter nods. 

“And I’ll stay out of the way.” Norman adds. Aunt Wanda frowns and puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“Norman, if the woman can’t handle seeing you then we’ll just find someone else to teach Peter.” Aunt Wanda assures Norman. Norman shakes his head and puts his more normal hand over Aunt Wanda’s. 

“Peter needs a good teacher, and she has the best qualifications. If I…” Norman’s eyes glance over at Peter, who pretends he is focused on his breakfast and not on their conversation. It doesn’t work, as Norman never finishes what he was saying, just repeating, “I’ll say out of the way.” 

“I could teach Peter!” The Jon volunteers. 

“ _ I  _ could teach Peter.” The Spine suggests. Wanda laughs.

“I barely trust you not to get Peter hurt!” Spine looks appalled by this claim, John shrugs and nods. 

“Aunt Wanda, I’m sure they wouldn’t get me in trouble.” Peter assures her, even though he really doesn’t know enough about them to make such a claim. Aunt Wanda raised her eyebrows, looking from Peter to the robots and back.

“Peter, I know I told you you can trust the automatons, but I think it should also be mentioned that you need to be careful around them. They can get a little… out of hand.” Aunt Wanda says. The Jon gasps.

“Wanda! You and Four had plenty of fun with us when you were kids!” The Jon says, a hand put to his chest.

“And I remember you said that jumping from a second story was totally safe for a human  _ and  _ a robot. And then I broke my arm. And you broke your legs.” Aunt Wanda recalls. John opens and closes his mouth, a metal clicking.

“She does have you there.” The Spine agrees.

“Oh, and who thought cooking couldn’t be all that hard?” Aunt Wanda says pointedly to the Spine, who had a jet of steam come from his back spines and crossed his arms, looking away from Aunt Wanda. Peter giggles a bit at that. 

Aunt Wanda is out the door by 8:45, wishing them all a good day and one last reminder to be nice to Ms. Wilson. Norman walks off to go… somewhere in the house, probably anywhere that wasn’t the first floor, with a reminder to Peter that  _ he  _ should stay on the first floor. It is, by the general consensus of all the house residents, the safest and ‘most stable’ floor of the house. The second and third story are okay to be on, but can get confusing, the fourth floor is apparently not terribly safe and the basement - sorry,  _ basements  _ apparently - are strictly off limits until Peter is older or until Four is home.

Peter doesn’t like bringing up Four. Aunt Wanda seems sad a lot of the time when she thinks Peter isn’t paying attention, but when Four is brought up Aunt Wanda looks sad even though she knows Peter is looking at her. 

Aunt Wanda also gets sad when Three is brought up. 

The funeral is in three days. 

Around 9:00, Ms. Wilson arrives at Walter Manor.

Ms. Wilson is a no-nonsense woman. Her hair is always pulled up into a tight tight bun that looks like it’d be painful. Her clothes are immaculate. She has eyes like a hawk and a nose that curves downward like a beak, and when she stares at him through her glasses Peter wonders if that is what small mice feel like right before they’re caught put in talons. Back at the orphanage, the teacher had too many kids to really care about if Peter’s attention wandered or if he fell asleep in the middle of a lesson. Now that it is just him and Ms. Wilson, however, Peter finds those things a lot harder to do.

Class is held in the middle of the dining table. On one side sits Peter himself with papers and pencils and workbooks. On the other side stands Ms. Wilson with a ruler and a chalkboard that Aunt Wanda had brought up from the basement. The first day of class, there had been a lot of numbers and lines and pictures drawn on it, but Ms. Wilson erased it all before Peter could get a good look.

Peter finds math interesting, and history curious, and english the most boring and dry subject in the world. Reading books is okay, but then having to regurgitate what he’s read back to the teacher seems like a waste of time. So while Ms. Wilson prattles on about parts of a sentence, Peter pretends to write along with her while instead he jots down a list of what he doesn’t like about english.

12:00 p.m. is one of the best times of the day. 

Ms. Wilson calls for a break in class and Peter is out of his chair and in the kitchen before she can even blink. Whatever she does during the next hour is a mystery to Peter, and he doesn’t really care because it’s lunch and recess time. 

At some point during the last mind-numbing three hours, Norman must’ve slipped into the kitchen, because there’s a sandwich lying out with Peter’s name written on a piece of paper next to it. Ham and cheese today. Peter grabs the plate and an apple and rushes out the front door of the manor.

There’s a lot of land around the manor. There’s a garden in the back and mostly empty grass to the sides, and in the front of the manor along the drive are big trees and Peter’s focus for the day.

He sits on the front steps, mostly in the shade of the front porch but feet stuck out in the sun, and makes quick work of his sandwich, leaving the plate on the porch. Apple in hand, he goes to the closest tree and sizes it up, picking out the lowest branch. He makes a few attempts to pocket the apple, but when it proves to be too big for his pocket he holds it in his mouth, teeth biting into the red skin, and reaches up for the branch. After a few unsuccessful tries to get a good grip, Peter manages to swing up onto the first branch, and then step up to somewhere in the middle of the tree, sitting on a branch, one hand on the tree trunk and the other holding his apple as he takes big bites out of it.

Walter Manor has a big wall around it. It looks a lot less intimidating from up in the tree, a lot less looming. A lot less restrictive. 

“Peter!” 

Peter swings his feet and looks down. The Jon looks up, smiling and waving, with the Spine next to him. Peter hurdles his applecore out into the lawn and waves back to the two robots. 

“Hi!” Peter calls down to them. “C’mon up, there’s plenty of space.”

“Pretty sure we’d risk damaging the tree if we tried to climb it.” The Spine says, one hand wrapped firmly around the collar of the Jon’s shirt, who makes a small shift like he was about to give a try climbing the tree anyway. “Look what we found, though.” 

The Jon holds up a ball. It’s looks fairly old and dirty, but Peter can’t help being a little excited at the sight of it. He makes quick work of getting down from the, landing in front of the two robots. 

“A soccer ball?” Peter takes it from them, feeling its weight in his hands and then dropping it to the ground, experimentally pushing it around with his feet. “Why do you have a soccer ball?”

“You didn’t think Wanda and Four grew up doing nothing all day, did you?” The Spine asks, amusement clear in his voice. Peter shrugs and looks at the manor. In all honesty it didn’t seem like a place made for kids. The concept of there having been other kids running around its halls before he came around was weird to consider. 

The three of them kick the ball around for the rest of the hour, being stopped by Ms. Wilson standing in the doorway and calling for him to get back inside, class was starting back up again. The automatons come back inside, following after Peter, and he sees her look at them coldy. Peter sticks his tongue out at her when her back is turned. 

The remaining three hours of school seem to drag on and on. She makes him do math problems and recite poems and practice his penmanship until his hand hurts and he complains that there was nothing wrong with how he held his pencil before. She tuts at him and shakes her head disapprovingly and doesn’t let up.

As soon as Ms. Wilson is out of the house, her car down the road, Norman emerges back to the first floor in case Peter needs help with homework. He doesn’t, but the man hangs around anyway. When its done, Norman tells Peter he’s free to run off and have some fun while he prepares dinner. The two robots went back outside at some point, kicking the ball around some more. Peter doesn’t join them right away, re-climbing a tree and watching them pass the ball back and forth. They’re both very good at it, and very fast, though the Jon is just a bit zippier and manages to get it past the Spine more than he can get it past the Jon. 

Aunt Wanda comes home around 5:45, pulling into the driveway and smiling brightly at Peter, ruffling his hair. Norman greets her at the door. 

“How was your day?” He asks her. 

“Well, work is getting better.” She tells him, toeing off her heels at the door and letting his hair fall out of its bun. “I think they’re all starting to realize I’m not going to let them push me around. I might be making some enemies, though.” 

“That’s what a Walter does best, isn’t it?” Norman jokes and Aunt Wanda shoves his shoulder, smiling. 

“Oh if only I was a Becile, then I’d have the entire  _ board  _ against me just by breathing!” She teases back and Norman gives a big cackling laugh. 

Dinner is a soup, and they sit on the end of the table closest to the kitchen door so that Norman doesn’t have to carry the dishes all that far. The Jon and the Spine attend dinner, but Rabbit is missing around. 

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Wanda asks the Spine. His head tilts to the side for a second before he nods. 

“He just needs time. The past few years have been… well, you know.” 

Wanda nods. 

The rest of the night is spent in the living room. Wanda has some papers that she brought home with her from work that she frets over, and Norman tries to help her with them. It doesn’t seem like he’s able to be too much help, but Wanda clearly appreciates the effort anyway. 

Peter takes a book off a shelf and pages through it, looking mostly at the pictures. Maybe he’ll see if he can convince Aunt Wanda to take him to the library when she has a day off. Every-so-often, the pages of the book are interrupted by a flower that’s been squashed between the pages. Peter picks each out out gingerly and turns it around, looking it over, before replacing it in the book and continuing to look through it. 

9:00 chimes on the grandfather clock in the room. 

“Bed time, Peter.” 

Rabbit stands at the limen of the living room. He doesn’t enter it, but it’s the first time Peter has seen the robot in a place where most of the house residents congregated. Aunt Wanda actually jumped at the robot’s voice, looking over him in surprise. 

“Oh, Rabbit.” She says, and doesn’t seem to know what else to say. Rabbit doesn’t meet Aunt Wanda’s eyes. He just puts a hand out towards Peter, and Peter gets up and takes hold of it, wishing a good night to Aunt Wanda and Norman before being led back to his room by Rabbit. 

“Any r-requests?” Rabbit asks, coming into the room only after Peter called that it was okay, now changed into his pajamas and in his bed. Peter shrugs. Rabbit takes up his normal spot in the room, next to the window. It's closed right now. It may not be in the morning. 

He falls asleep to Rabbit’s gentle melody, begging others not to be upset at him, he was made with the electricity inside of him. 


	5. Funeral of the Third

The suit is black and stiff. 

“You’ll only wear it once.” 

Aunt Wanda had said that when she handed him the suit on its hangar. She was in her pajamas, her eyes were red again, and she’d rushed him back into his room after breakfast to go get changed. 

Peter has never worn a suit before. Or at least, he doesn’t remember ever wearing one. It’s a complete uniform, as far as he can tell, with a vest and jacket and white button-up shirt. When he comes out all dressed, the Spine is waiting out there for him. He takes Peter to the bathroom and has Peter sit on the counter while he does Peter’s hair. He smooths it back and it feels weird and uncomfortable. It all feels uncomfortable. Not just the outfit, not just the hair, but the whole event. Aunt Wanda had asked him that morning, as she handed him the terrible suit, if he wanted to just stay inside. Peter almost says yes, but something makes him say no, he’ll come out, he’ll put on the terrible suit and he’ll stand around awkwardly. 

When Peter’s hair is done, Peter follows the Spine to the first floor. They take the elevator down and Peter narrows his eyes when it feels like they’ve gone much farther down than should be necessary. Some time, he’ll grab one of the robots to make sure he doesn’t get lost, and he’s going to thoroughly explore the manor. Not today, though. Peter has a feeling he’s not going to be able to do much today.

The dining room table is laid out with a buffet of food. The robots are nowhere to be seen - well, other than the Spine, but after showing Peter to the dining room he walks away. There’s a group of strangers milling around the buffet, each with their own plates and assorted foods on them. It’s not a surprise that Peter doesn’t recognize them, but it still makes Peter stare down at his feet and shuffle awkwardly. Most of them have an odd blue pin on their outfit somewhere. Peter tries not to be caught staring at them.

He’s not alone with the strangers for very long. Just as one man looks like he’s about to try and talk to Peter, Norman and Aunt Wanda enter the room.

Aunt Wanda is in a long and black dress. Norman is actually wearing a suit, his spikes poking out of the back. Aunt Wanda is holding Norman’s hand, and the flock of strangers in black surround her, quiet words of ‘sorry for your loss’ and ‘how are you holding up’ said to her. She does a lot of nodding, dabbing at her slow tears with a handkerchief in her free hand.

She and Norman grab some food and mill around, chatting in almost whispers to other people. Peter catches some of the visitors side-eying Norman, or out right glaring at him. Norman either doesn’t notice or isn’t bothered by it. 

As a group, as if by some unsaid agreement, the procession moves to the garden in the back of the manor. It’s not a place that Peter has spent a lot of time yet. He has a feeling it’ll be a while before he’s able to. It’ll be awhile before he can imagine it without the casket sitting in it.

The casket is open.

Three is an old man.

He is pale, and there are wrinkles on his face. His hair is gray. He has a mustache, a furry thing on the top of his lip. It must be a weird effect of the lighting, because he looks almost blue, both in the skin and the hair. He’s dressed in a suit, just like all the other men at the funeral, and has one of the blue pins as well. He’s surrounded by flowers. 

And Three is not an ‘is’, Three was a ‘was’. 

Peter can’t stand staring at him for very long. It makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t know the man in the coffin. He has a vague memory of wrinkled hands holding onto him, of a man with a fuzzy upper lip kissing his forehead. That’s all there is, though. Peter steps away and lets the people who clearly knew Three say their final goodbyes. 

The robots emerge from the garden as if they were composed of the leaves themselves. They all usually wear black, but the red that usually accompanies it is gone. It’s just pure black. There are four of them, one composed of pink-painted metal that Peter doesn’t recognize. Rabbit is the one to close the casket, and then with two on each side they grab the casket and lift it, carrying it as if it weighed nothing. 

The funeral procession follows behind the robots and the body of Three. It’s a small slope downhill, and it doesn’t take long for Peter to realize what they’re heading towards. There’s already an established cemetary on the land of the manor. The tombstones sit like a row of imperfect teeth. Each one differs in size and shape. 

There’s a rectangle of ground that has been dug out, and the casket it placed next to it. The robots stand to the side, hands clasped in front of them. Aunt Wanda steps forward, and it’s like there was a rehearsal before that Peter missed as the black-suited people move to one side of the hole while Aunt Wanda stands on the side with the coffin and the robots. 

“Peter A. Walter the Third was my uncle,” She starts. Her voice shakes a little as she begins to speak, but it quickly strengths as she stands straighter, “But I have often wondered if I ever truly knew the meaning of the word ‘uncle’? Who is an uncle to those who did not grow up as I did? My uncle was there when I was born, watched me take my first steps. He patched me up when I broke my arm and stole me cookies from the kitchen even after my dad told me I couldn’t have anymore. What is an uncle to the rest of the world? An uncle for me, has always been a second dad, a secret dad. Three was there for me when my dad couldn’t be. When my mom died and my dad was too deep in mourning for my brothers and I, my uncle was able to hold us and let us cry on his shoulders.

“And then when my dad died, and my husband died, and my brother died, and the world threatened to crash down around me, even though Three could barely walk, he found a way to get to my room and hugged me. I have not lost an uncle today. I have lost a dad for the second time.”

There is no clapping when Aunt Wanda finishes her short speech, but Norman does step forward and approach her, rubbing circles into her back. She has started to cry again and she dries her eyes. It doesn’t seem to do much good, as the tears keep going. Norman accompanies her back to the group on the other side of the coffin. Rabbit looks to the other robots, exchange a nod, and steps forward, taking up the spot that Aunt Wanda had been in. 

“I am made of m-metal, built by Colonel Walter. Th-th-three was made of flesh, and the son of Colonel W-walter. We were both-both children of Pappy, and we w-were brothers. I was b-b-built in 1896, and the t-twins were born in 1897. Some may-may say it’s unfair, that Pappy and Ma had t-t-t-to raise six kids at once. But my br-others and I were th-there for the twins. I watched as Three g-gr-grew from a baby to an adult, b-b-b-became a man we could all be pro-ud of. We had laughs t-t-together, arguments together, got into tr-trouble together.” Rabbit says. He opens his mouth, as if to talk again, but steam pours from his mouth and he closes it. He has his own handkerchief, it’s black instead of white, and he uses it to dab at a black substance coming from his eyes. The Spine puts a hand Rabbit’s shoulder, but the robot shakes his head. 

“Three was the one to make sure a letter got to my brothers and I when Pappy died. Three m-maybe wasn’t the one to always f-f-f-fix us up until recently, b-but he k-kept us company during m-maintenance. Two’s death h-hit us h-h-hard, as did th-the other deaths that n-” Rabbit’s voice cracks and fizzes. The Jon this time starts to stepforward, but Rabbit shakes his head once more, “Th-three… Two… I…. I do not know wh-wh-what happens to h-humans when they d-d-d-die. None of us do. But where e-e-ever Three is, I hope - n-no! I _know -_ h-he’s with Two.” 

The black stuff is pouring down Rabbit’s face and he finally steps back into line with his fellow robots. 

Norman goes up next, and he looks nervous under the gaze of all the strangers. His good hand fiddles awkwardly with his oven mitt, which he still had on his crab-clawed hand. 

“I won’t take much of your time, but I wouldn’t be able to leave today without saying something. I’ve done some… deplorable things, in my life, but Three was willing to give me a chance. I am not the man I used to be, in many ways, but I don’t spend much time missing that man. Here, in Walter Manor, with Three’s acceptance, I have become a better person.”

It’s short and succinct. For the first time, Peter wonders how Norman came to look as he does, but now is not the time to ask. 

A few of the black-suited people with the blue pins go up and say things. Peter pays less attention to what is said - things about how Three will be missed, about how he was a huge part of their group or something - and keeps looking between the robots and his Aunt Wanda. Aunt Wanda cries and cries and cries, and Peter goes over and grabs her hand, squeezing it. She’s been nothing but nice to him since he got here, and reassuring her during this time is the least he can do. 

The robots look like they’re trying very hard to stay still, Rabbit has returned to his position of hands clasped in front of him, but the black substance still comes from his eyes. He is not the only leaking. The other three have the occasional drop of black roll down their metal faces. They’re robots, and yet they’re crying. They’re crying robots. 

And when the last person has come up to say their goodbyes, the robots step forward, singing. 

Whatever they’re singing isn’t in English, but it is sad and soft and then rises to be strong and bold. The coffin is lowered into the grave with utmost care. There’s no way it’s the actual six-feet distance that Peter has heard about, considering that’d be too far down for even the robots to reach. Aunt Wanda walks forward again as the robots take up shovels. She grabs one of her own, and the pile of dirt that was next to the grave diminishes as they all work to bury Three. 

The procession heads back to the manor, the black-suited strangers with their blue pins and sympathetic eyes, and Norman follows after them. 

The robots and Aunt Wanda stay behind, and Peter stays with them. 

“The tombstone isn’t finished yet.” Aunt Wanda says. She’s staring at the place where it’s supposed to be. “I haven’t found enough time to get around to it, what with the company and getting Peter settled.” 

“The funeral could’ve been put off, if you needed it to.” The Spine says. Aunt Wanda shakes his head.

“No, I… I needed this out of the way. I need to move on.” Aunt Wanda insists. 

“I always meant to come back and see him again, I guess… time just got away from me.” The pink robot says.

“Isn’t that always how it is? Time always passes too fast?” The Jon replies. 

“He always intended to go visit you, sometime.” Aunt Wanda says, and it’s directed to Peter, who jumped, having thought they’d all forgotten he was there. “But time… we just thought we had more time. At least you’re here now.” 

“This is Five?” The pink robot says, squatting down to look at Peter. 

“Uh, P-, uh, yeah, Five.” Peter fumbles. 

“You probably don’t remember me. I’m Upgrade, I was there when you were born.” She introduces herself, and Peter shakes her cold metal hand. 

“So then you were there, when…” Peter’s voice trails off. Upgrade’s small smile falls from her face and she looks to one of the tombstones. Peter follows her gaze.

Mark and Judith are buried right next to each other. 

It makes sense. This is the family cemetery, his parents were part of the family. But he’s never thought about seeing their tombstones before. It’s never occurred to him before that this would be a thing he’d ever be able to do. 

Peter approaches the tombstones like they’re going to disappear if he moves too fast. 

Their names, carved into the stone, is the most real they’ve ever felt.

Peter didn’t cry when he found out Three had died. He hadn’t cried all throughout the funeral. 

He cries now, as close to his parents as he’ll ever get.

oOo

The all leave when the sun goes down. 

Peter hides up in his room at one point as Aunt Wanda talks with the guests. The morose tone had at some point turned into something a bit more lighthearted as she caught up with the people who had come to Three's funeral. The robots, too, were catching up, though they were mostly focused on catching back up with Upgrade. So Peter sits in his room. He takes out his clump of wires that is almost a flashlight and twists them about into various little shapes. 

Upgrade stops by before she leaves. Apparently she'd arrived with the blue-pinned people, and she is leaving with them. She calls them the 'Cavalcadium' and promises that someday, Peter will get to know them. She kisses Peter on the forehead, and then makes Aunt Wanda promise to be good and send for her if she needs it. Aunt Wanda is admamant that she'll be okay and hugs Upgrade goodbye. The three other robots embrace Upgrade in a huge group hug, and there are little whistles and chirps exhanged between them. 

And then it's just the three robots, Aunt Wanda, Norman, and Peter. 

Dinner is leftovers from the buffet-style lunch.

Rabbit is there too with his own cup of water, just like the Jon and the Spine.


	6. Broken 'Bot

“How many floors does this place have?!” 

Peter stares upwards. Rabbit and the Jon stare up with him.

There are a couple operations going on today. 

The first is Operation: Don’t Sit Through English Again, which involved just… not going back to the dining room after lunch. 

The second thing is Operation: Figure the House Out. Well, the robots always met up with Peter during lunch, and then it was just a matter of asking if they’d show him the house. Peter had expected them to be reluctant, after all it seemed like every-other day Aunt Wanda reminded Peter that the manor could be dangerous. The robots, however, seemed excited at the prospect of giving Peter a much more thorough tour of the place. 

Which brings Peter to where he is with Rabbit and the Jon. The Spine hadn’t been able to join. Apparently, he's in Aunt Wanda’s room, taking the chance to listen to the radio and try and play along with some of the songs. Rabbit had whispered conspiratorially that the Spine was probably hoping that ‘Maybelline’ would come on, apparently he’d been trying to figure out the chords for a while. 

The three of them are still on the first floor, and time hasn’t run out for lunch yet so the race isn’t on to stay away from Ms. Wilson. So Peter and Rabbit and the Jon stare up at a spot in the house where you could see up to the floors above them. Here is the thing: it definitely doesn’t  _ look  _ like there are three floors. It doesn’t look like there are  _ four  _ floors. It looks like it just goes up and up forever. From the outside, the manor definitely doesn’t look like it goes on forever.

“Depends on what you count as a floor.” The Jon shrugs. “We have some really tall observatory rooms and towers.”

“That’s not a tower.” Peter points out. 

“You’re right.” Rabbit agrees. “Guess we’ll just h-have to climb up there and f-f-find out.” 

Peter looks at the flights of stairs and grimaces. It goes up in a mostly spiral manner, and it goes up very far. Would avoiding class really be worth all the stair-climbing? 

“I bet I can climb faster than you can.” The Jon folds his arms and looks at Rabbit with a smirk. 

“W-what? No way!” Rabbit sticks his tongue out at the Jon.

“C’mon, when was the last time you got a tune up Rabbit? Actually, when  _ was  _ the last time you got a tune up?” The Jon’s egging stops as a look of worry crosses his face. A jet of steam comes out of Rabbit, who looks away from the Jon.

“Don’t change the s-s-subject. I can to-totally climb f-f-faster than you.” Rabbit insists. The Jon frowns for half a second before smiling again and putting his hands on his hips. 

“You  _ wish  _ you could.”

“I could b-b-beat you, even while carrying P-p-peter!” Rabbit declares. 

“Wait what?” Peter says as Rabbit kneels down, back to Peter. 

“Hop on!” Rabbit more orders than asks. 

“Uh,” Peter takes a step away from Rabbit, remembering what Aunt Wanda had said, “Will that be… safe?” 

“S-safe enough.” Rabbit reassures, though in reality it’s not all that reassuring. 

“I’m probably a little too old-”

“I’ve carried soldiers three-three times your weight, Peter, g-g-get on my back.” Rabbit insists, and so Peter wraps his arms around Rabbit’s neck and his legs around the robot’s stomach.

True to Rabbit’s words, he stands without a problem. Peter may as well be a stuffed doll. A burst of steam comes from where Rabbit’s shoulders meet his torso. Peter has noticed that of all the robots, where the steam comes out of Rabbit always seems to be the most random. It ticks Peter’s neck and arms. It’s so familiar, like this, and Peter lets his chin rest on Rabbit’s head, trying to bring the memory to the forefront of his mind. 

The smell of copper and oil… cold metal with the occasional burst of warm steam, almost too hot… whirring and clinking joints and gears…

“... are you going to say go?” 

Peter blinks his eyes open to see the Jon staring at him. He’s got his hands on the lowest railing of the spiral staircase. Peter looks down and sees Rabbit grabbing the railing as well. 

“Oh. Yeah. Uh, go?”

Peter gives a yelp as Rabbit surges upwards and has to hang on tighter to Rabbit’s neck. Rabbit gets his feet to the top bar of the railing and then reaches above him, grabbing the bottom of the next set of stairs and pulling them up. Peter buries the bottom half of his face into Rabbit’s hat when Rabbit hangs from it by one hand and then swings up to grab one of the bars of the railing, then doing the same with the other hand to reach top of the railing, feet finally no longer swinging openly and able to brace against the bottom of the stairs. The more stable position doesn't last long, of course, as Rabbit continues to make his ascent.

The Jon goes with a different approach. Instead of going straight up, he does a kind of back and forth. When he manages to stand on the top of the railing, he turns and jumps to the railing across from him. Not as far up as going right above, like Rabbit, but further horizonal distance for sure. Peter finds himself glad that Rabbit isn’t trying to make that kind of jump. 

It is a surprisingly close race, but the Jon was steadily gaining ground.

Or at least, he was until he fell. 

To be fair, it isn’t entirely his fault. The part of the railing he’d grabbed - one of the long fancy sticks between the railing and the stair - came loose. With it clenched in his hand, he falls down the three stories he’d managed to climb up. 

“The Jon!” Peter calls out, but doesn’t loosen his grip on Rabbit. Rabbit spins around almost too sharply and Peter grabs on even tighter.

The Jon lands on the ground with a huge ‘ker-shlank!’ of metal, like the sound of a dropped pan, but only if a bunch of pans were dropped at once. Also if they made a kind of strangled yell if they were dropped and then groaned in pain afterwards. 

Rabbit swings himself up onto the other side of the railing and peers over it, looking down at the clump of metal on the ground.

“The Jon! A-a-are you okay?” Rabbit shouts down. Without waiting for a response - or for Peter to get off his back - he starts to run down the stairs, skipping several stairs at a time. 

“I’ve b-been b-b-b-b-b-” The Jon stutters through b’s for a while, and it’s only once they’re actually back to the bottom of the stairs that he’s able to finish his sentence with, “B-better.”

He actually looks better than Peter had thought he would. Peter climbs off of Rabbit and approaches The Jon where he lies, unmoving. Whether that’s because he can’t move, or because he doesn’t want to make things worse, Peter isn’t sure. The one of the Jon’s legs and one of his arms are bent at weird angles, and the metal that makes up his arm and leg is heavily indented. His head isn’t snapped off or anything, but it is twisted too much to the side. If he was any normal human, he’d probably be dead. The Jon’s good hand drops the piece of railing and then, with jerky movements, forms a thumbs up. 

“No, th-that is n-not thumbs-up worthy!” Rabbit scolds and strides forward, swatting at the Jon’s hand. It drops back to the ground.

“I st-st-st-still climbed f-f-f-f-f-further than you.” The Jon points out.

“I guess you d-did win.” Rabbit agrees. “Can you st-stand?” 

The Jon rattles on the ground, almost-spasming movements that look painful as he gets his good arm under him and starts to push up onto his good leg. Then he falls back to being limp on the ground.

“N-n-n-n-n-o.” The Jon decides.

“Yeah, th-that seems about r-right.” Rabbit leans down and scoops the Jon up in his arms.

“He’s not going to be… I guess he doesn’t die, but, uh, be… scrapped?” Peter searches his memory desperately in case he’s ever heard a word for a robot dying. Rabbit looks shocked by the mere thought of suggestion.

“Of course not! C’mon, l-let’s get him t-t-to the b-basement.” Rabbit’s hold on the Jon looks surprisingly gentle as carries his brother.

“I’m… Aunt Wanda says I’m not supposed to go down there.” Technically, Peter also wasn’t supposed to really explore the manor, and part of being careful around the robots most definitely meant not being carried piggy-back while the robot climbs something, but really peter feels like he’s already going to be in enough trouble without adding ‘going to the basement’ to the list. 

“Hm. you’re r-r-right…” Rabbit agrees, biting his lip and turning around for a bit. “Alright, we’ll p-put him in the d-d-dining room for now.” 

Well, Operation: explore the mansion was a bust. Even just getting more familiar with the mansion wasa bust, as Peter definitely wouldn’t’ve been able to make it back to the dining room without Rabbit guiding him. 

Ms. Wilson is in the dining room, drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. She gasps when they come in, but Rabbit doesn’t pay her any attention as he puts the Jon down on the table, limbs lying as normally by his side as they can, and then steps back, nodding. 

“I’ll go g-g-get some things from-from the basement. I’ll be back.” Rabbit promises and once more leaves the dining room.

“My Lord, what have you done to him?” Ms. Wilson steps forward cautiously, looking both horrified and curious. 

“P-p-p-p-p-p-peter didn’t d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do it.” The Jon’s voice is like the snapping and crackling of logs on a fire. Ms. Wilson gives a small shriek and steps back.

“It’s still awake?!”

“The Jon, isn’t an ‘it’, he’s a ‘he’.” Peter frowns and corrects her.

“Well, I cannot work with this thing in the way.” Ms. Wilson declares. “Peter, I hope you enjoy a long weekend.”

Before Peter can even attempt to convince her to stay (not that he would’ve tried to) Ms. Wilson has all of her things packed up into her bag, Peter’s homework and the Jon the only thing left on the table, and is out the door.

“S-s-s-s-s-s-s-so…” The Jon creaks out.

“Operation: Don’t have school… was a success!” Peter cheers. The Jon lifts his one good hand into a thumbs up and Peter gives him two thumbs up in return.

oOo

Rabbit comes back up from the basement wheeling a cart with various little instruments on it into the dining room, and tells Peter that they probably won’t be able to do much until Aunt Wanda comes home. At one point Norman walks into the room, suggesting he could give the Jon a look over and see if there was anything he could do to help (though he sounded very unsure as to how much help he’d be) but Rabbit had demanded Norman leave the room and not so much as look at the Jon. 

Peter had admonished Rabbit for being mean to Norman, but Norman had assured Peter it was quite alright and that he understood Rabbit’s reasoning, giving Rabbit a knowing nod and leaving the room. Rabbit let out another just of steam, this time from his neck, but didn’t answer when Peter asked what that was all about. 

The chalkboard is erased from that day’s Science lesson and Rabbit starts jotting things down. There are three sections - leg, neck, and arm - and in each section is written what Peter assumes is what is wrong with each. The words and phrasing, though, may as well be another language.

And then, the weirdest thing that Rabbit did, was take off the Jon’s leg and arm. THere was click, a hiss of steam, and then the limbs just came right off. Peter didn’t realize just how tensed up the Jon was until the limbs were removed. Once off, the Jon relaxes more onto the table, another burst of steam coming out of his mouth like a sigh of relief. His head is still on all weird but Rabbit seems hesitant to do anything about it. 

At one point, Rabbit has Peter get a pitcher of water so that they can make sure that the Jon’s boiler stays full. In order to do so, Rabbit opens up some part of the Jon’s neck, since apparently they couldn’t trust that he’d be able to take it reliably through drinking and that it wouldn’t just immediately leak out. 

“I’m home!”

Wanda announces her return and Rabbit jumps to his feet, dropping the leg he’d been examining, and rushing off to the front door with Peter at his heels.

“Wanda, you took for-for-forever to get home!” Rabbit complains. Aunt Wanda frowns and looks down at her watch.

“I’m actually a little early today.” She corrects. Rabbit grabs her arm and drags her into the dining room. 

“It was st-still too long! The J-J-Jon needs you!” 

“Oh God, what did you two do?” Aunt Wanda sighs when she sees the Jon. The Jon raises his hand and waves. 

“N-nothing!” Rabbit defends himself. Aunt Wanda fixes him with a  _ look _ . “... w-we were climbing-ing some stairs.”

“I’ll just take a wild guess and say you weren’t using the actual stairs themselves for the climbing part.” Aunt Wanda sighs again and walks up to the table, looking at the limbs and then gently looking at the Jon’s neck. 

“H-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-i W-w-w-w-w-w-annnnnnnnda.” The Jon greets her as best he can.

“Evening Jon.” She says. “Any reason he’s here and not downstairs?”

“Peter c-can’t go d-downstairs.” Rabbit reminds Aunt Wanda. She looks confused for a second, then understanding, nodding. 

“Right, yes. Well, Peter, are you ready for your first time fixing up a robot?” She asks him. She looks to Peter and Peter looks away fidgeting. 

“I, um… Aunt Wanda, I don’t know anything-”

“You have to start somewhere, Peter, and what better time than now? C’mon, I promise not to give you anything too tough.” Aunt Wanda insists, and finally Peter nods reluctantly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to learn more about the robots, but he knows nothing about them right now, and he’s just expected to jump right into fixing them? It feels like a little much. 

Aunt Wanda looks at what Rabbit has written down, than looks at the broken parts of the Jon for a little longer, and then nods to herself.

“Alright, Rabbit go and find the Spine. If we have all hands working on this, it shouldn’t take too long. Peter, come over here.” Aunt Wanda grabs two pairs of goggles off of the cart that Rabbit had brought up, handing a pair to Peter. “The Jon, I’m going to be putting you onto standby, are you ready?” The Jon gives a stiff nod. Aunt Wanda flips the Jon onto his back, taking off his shirt and opening a panel along his spine. With the press of a button, the Jon becomes completely limp. The Jon’s torso isn’t a solid piece Peter had expected. There was a lot of plating, but it wasn’t a smooth surface or anything. 

Peter does a lot of sitting around and watching. He watches as Aunt Wanda delicately removes the Jon’s head from the torso so that she can get to the neck better. She teaches Peter the names of the tools she’s working with as she loosens the plating and strips it away. The dented plates she hands to Peter, as well as a hammer, and tells him to dry and get it as smooth as he can. 

Rabbit returns with the Spine, who sets his guitar by the wall. It sounds like he’s in the middle of chewing Rabbit out for not telling him the Jon was in pieces earlier. When they come in, each choosing a limb to work on, Aunt Wanda tells them what to do and how to do it, pointing out what pieces need to be repaired or just completely switched out. Rabbit has to make a trip back down to the basement for more parts at one point. More plates of bronze metal are handed over to Peter for ironing out. 

Aunt Wanda carefully reattaches the Jon’s head, and then the arm and legs go back on next. The metal plating doesn’t fit as well as it did before, a lot more little dents in it where Peter had attempted to hammer it back into form, and Aunt Wanda assures him that it’s okay. They’ll get new plating for him eventually, or grind it down, or try something else at some point, but it’ll do fine for now. 

“Peter, put your goggles on.” She tells him and Peter snaps them down over his eyes. “Now, the Jon’s core isn’t damaged or anything, but I think you should see this.” 

Peter steps right next to Wanda as she carefully opens up the Jon’s chest. It’s a bit weird, because although he doesn’t look human, he looks close enough that Peter is almost expecting to find a beating heart inside of there. There isn’t a beating heart, though. There isn’t technically a beating anything. There is, however ,a pulsing thing.

It’s a perfect sphere, in the middle of the Jon’s chest, held in a cylindrical case with wires and tubes coming off of it. It’s a bright blue color, almost the color of the sky. It’s not uniform throughout. Instead, it looks like water or smoke swirling around. Peter doesn’t even realize he’s reaching for it until Aunt Wanda catches his wrist in an iron-tight hold.

“Don’t touch it.” She warns him. Peter puts his hands behind his back, then looks back at the core. There wasn’t a sound coming from it, except… wasn’t there? Wasn’t there something? If Peter just leans in close, listens a little harder, maybe there’s-

Aunt Wanda catches his shoulder and Peter blinks, pulling away and shaking his head.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, feeling ashamed for being about to go against Aunt Wanda’s warning so soon after she said it. Yet Aunt Wanda was smiling softly.

“It’s okay. Blue Matter has a weird effect on people, especially when you’re not used to it.” She closes the hatch right up, and as soon as its closed Peter swears he can think clearer, like there had been mist over his thoughts, making them so much harder to make out. Aunt Wanda lifts her goggles to her forehead and Peter follows suit. “That’s what runs the robots, and you need to promise me that you’ll never mess with it. It’s dangerous, Peter. As dangerous as an atomic bomb, maybe even worse.” 

Peter nods. There’s a gravity in Aunt Wanda’s tone, a sadness in her eyes as she talks about the danger of the blue matter core. 

“Rabbit? Can I come in now?” 

The moment between Peter and his aunt is broken by Norman calling into the dining room, and right on cue Peter’s stomach rumbles. Aunt Wanda laughs. 

“Don’t worry Rabbit, I don’t think Norman wouldn’t be able to get to the Jon past all of us.” She says. Rabbit huffs and folds his arms, looking away. “Come on in Norman, and bring some dinner with you if you would.” 

Norman does enter, carrying plates of spaghetti. Aunt Wanda flips the Jon onto his stomach once more and presses the same button as before. The Jon slowly sits up, each limb going through a few motions as if testing it out. When his testing is done, the Jon grins his bright and wide grin again.

“You did it!” He cheers, jumping forward and hugging Aunt Wanda.

“I did okay.” She says in return. “It’s not a perfect job. I’m fairly certain you’ve lost some dexterity in your right hand, and you’ll probably be walking with a limp until Four gets back, but you’ll be walking  _ at all _ , and your head is screwed on right.” 

“It’s better than when you put my leg on backwards.” The Spine says and Aunt Wanda’s face flushes red. 

“Oh don’t remind me! I said I was sorry!”

oOo

The Jon tries out his repaired vocal chords as he sings to Peter that night.

Peter takes hours to fall asleep as every time he closes his eyes, he can see the swirling blue orb behind his eyelids, and the song he didn’t hear ringing in his ears. 


	7. The New Mexico Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a kinda wanda-centric chapter and honestly? good, i love wanda

The mail comes at 12:30 every afternoon.

Well, 12:30-ish. 

Unlike the orphanage, Walter Manor is far from the city. There isn’t another house for miles. It’s both refreshing and a little bit creepy. Something could happen to them out here, and nobody would even know. No cars outside, no feet pounding on the sidewalk, no need to be afraid of strangers hidden in dark alleys. Just a general kind of fear of the unknown of the house you live in that seems to be defying all kinds of laws of physics.

At any rate, it takes the mailman some time to get from the city to Walter Manor to drop off the mail, and a million different things that could happen between point A and point B that could slow him down.

He usually arrives in the middle of lunch, and Peter for the past couple weeks has made an effort to run out and greet him. 

He jots down a list of things he’s learned about their mailman.

Facts about ~~Mailman~~ Jeremy

  * His name is Jeremy 
  * He doesn’t like the color green but likes the color teal
  * He gets paid by the hour, so he’s completely fine with Walter Manor being so far from the rest of the houses
  * Jeremy thinks Walter Manor is ‘kinda spooky’
  * He’s been a mailman for thirty years
  * He knows Aunt Wanda, and everytime so far Peter has seen him, Jeremy has asked him to tell her ‘hi’ for him



“Hi Jeremy!” 

Peter drops out of the tree closest to the wall around Walter manor. It’s big enough that it’s branches go out over the the top of the wall, and Peter is able to sit down on it. Jeremy gets out of his car, a stack of letters in his hand, and smiles up at Peter. Well, his eyes wrinkle like they’re smiling. The enormous beard he has makes it impossible to see his mouth. 

“Afternoon, Peter.” Jeremy greets him. He’s a mountain of a man, and if Peter lies down on his stomach and stretches his hand out, Jeremy can hand the mail right to Peter just as long as there’s no heavy packages. He does just that today, and Peter sits back up and rifles through them. “How’s your aunt been?”

“Good. It’s Saturday, so she’s home. Do you want me to go get her?” Peter asks. Jeremy chuckles and shakes his head.

“No, no, that’s fine. You know, she and her brothers used to race to meet me by the fence.” Jeremy reminices. 

“Really?” Peter raises his eyebrows. 

“Oh yes, those three were quite the handful back in the day as I remember it. Ah, but I suppose life sets in, doesn’t it? A true shame.” Jeremy shakes his head sadly. Peter frowns. “Well, I best be off. More mail to deliver and all that.” 

“Alright. Bye Jeremy!” 

Peter waves to Jeremy’s car until it’s well down the road, and then sticks the mail into his back pocket while he climbs back onto the tree and climbs down to the ground. 

Aunt Wanda is currently in the living room with the fireplace, sitting on an armchair with papers piled on her lap and the floor around her, legs folded up underneath her skirt and hair messily pulled back. Norman has pushed the other armchair over so that it’s next to hers and has his own stack of papers that he’s looking over with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could do something with this…?” Aunt Wanda suggests, handing a page over to Norman. 

“It’s been done before.” Norman points out. 

“But we can do it better.” Aunt Wanda says, “That’s the Walter Robotics guarantee, right? We can do it better and for a lower price. At any rate, we need to-”

“- get something out if we want to stay in business, I know I know.” Norman sighs, adding the paper to a stack and leafing through a separate pile. He finally notices Peter trying to pick his way through the maze of papers of writing and blueprints. “Hey there Peter! Would’ve thought you’d be outside.”

“I thought Aunt Wanda had the day off.” Peter replies. Aunt Wanda sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“I really really wish, Peter. I don’t think I’m going to have a day off for a while.” Aunt Wanda bemoans her own fate. “Oh, is that the mail?”

“Jeremy says hi.” Peter passes the message along as he also passes the mail along. Aunt Wanda takes it from him, starting to rifle through the small stack. 

She goes through each quickly at first, but her hands freeze - her entire body freezes - at one. Peter watches as her eyes dart across the text over and over again, hands starting to shake.

“Wanda?” Norman shifts a little closer to her. He reaches to take the letter, but Aunt Wanda shakes her head and pulls it closer to her.

“N-no, I have to open. I have to read it.” She says, her voice sounding like glass, fragile and ready to shatter in a moment’s notice.

“Wanda, what is it?” Norman asks again. Aunt Wanda shakes her head again, mouth opening and closing a few times before she’s able to say something.

“It’s from the military, Norman. What if… what if Four-”

“No.” Norman says firmly.

“But-”

“No!” Norman insists. “Four is fine, Wanda. I’m sure whatever this is is just… congratulation on having such an amazing brother.” 

“But what _if,_ and so _soon-”_

“Then we’ll figure it out.” Norman says. He’s standing now. Wanda presses her lips together, but nods. 

“We’ll figure it out.” She repeats. With one of her trembling hands, she runs her nail across the top of the envelope, splitting it open. 

“Uncle Four is in the marines, right?” Peter checks quickly. Aunt Wanda nods numbly. Peter is almost dying of curiosity as the contents of the envelope are lifted out and unfolded with agonizing slowness. 

It feels like the entire manor doesn’t breath while Aunt Wanda reads.

She sets it down on her lap, placing her head in her hands and looking down on it. 

“Four is okay.” Aunt Wanda informs them. Norman visibly sags in relief. Aunt Wanda, on the other hand, is still tensed up. Peter’s eyebrows knit together.

“But?” Peter asks. Aunt Wanda nods again.

“Yes, the ‘but’,” Aunt Wanda agrees, “But the military has an offer for us.”

“An offer?” Norman repeats, the relief steadily vanishing from him.

“They want the automatons upgraded.” She informs them. “‘Due to your willingness to provide aid to your country in times of need, we would like to extend the invitation to further the capabilities and performance of your technological wonders.’”

“‘Extend an invitation’? Are they planning to cover how much that’d cost?” Norman asks.

“Not just that, they’re willing to cover the cost and then _pay us_ for the upgrade.” Aunt Wanda says. Her face, however, doesn’t look terribly excited by that. She looks more… concerned. “But we have to send them to New Mexico so that the military can oversee the upgrades themselves.” 

“How much are they offering?” Norman presses. Aunt Wanda shows him the letter and his eyebrows shoot up to the top of his head, Or, well, eyebrow. He only has the one. “That’s a great deal. When do the robots leave?”

“Right now? Never.” Aunt Wanda practically rips the letter back out of Norman’s hands. “I haven’t even talked to them about it.”

“You know they’ll go, though,” Norman points out, “And isn’t that the point of them?” 

“No, there’s not a ‘point’ to them.” Aunt Wanda says. “They’re family, Norman, and I’m not just going to sign them up for things without their consent.”

“Aren’t robots supposed to make things easier, Wanda?” Norman insists.

“They’re not just robots, _Becile!”_ Wanda spits, standing abruptly. The papers that had been on her lap are sent flying off as she gives Norman a harsh glare, hands clenched in fists that crumple the letter inside of them. Norman, on his part, looks taken aback by the sudden fierceness directed to him. 

“... of course.” Norman agrees. “Right.”

“... I’m going to go talk to the automatons.” Wanda says, anger cooling just as quickly as it had become iron-hot. 

“I’ll keep looking these over.” Norman offers. Aunt Wanda doesn’t say anything as she leaves the room, and Peter follows after her.

They’re done the hall some ways when Aunt Wanda leans against the wall, taking deep and steadying breaths like it’s all that’s keeping her standing.

“Sometimes, I think he’s more Becile than he lets on.” Aunt Wanda says.

“‘Becile’?” Peter asks. Aunt Wanda shakes her head.

“I’ll explain it to you someday. For now, just know that they’re not usually as friendly or well meaning as Norman.” Aunt Wanda uncrumples the letter, eyes darting over it again. “This worries me in ways that Norman just doesn’t understand.”

“We need money, right?” Peter isn’t exactly an expert of their financial situation, but he’s picked up on some things. Like that there used to be a staff at the Manor, but now it’s too costly to keep them around. That they’re doing okay moneywise but really really could be doing better. “And it’s just some cool upgrades.”

“But if they want to upgrade them, then they want to do something _with_ the upgrade.” She says. “And that’s what worries me.” 

oOo

Norman is right. The Automatons don’t need any kind of coercing. They agree to go to New Mexico with hardly a second thought.

There’s a week of preparation. It passes too quickly.

Norman makes himself scarce for a while, but eventually one dinner he apologizes for being insensitive. Aunt Wanda says it’s okay, but Norman makes it clear that no, Aunt Wanda was afraid of sending more family to the military, even if not in the active line of duty, and that Norman should’ve been more understanding. 

The robots don’t need to pack anything when the car arrives. Just a water bottle to make sure their boiler’s don’t get empty during the trip. They each hug Peter before they leave and promise they’ll be back soon. Aunt Wanda points out that they don’t know how long they’ll be gone, and the robots promise that if it’s longer than a month they’ll just break out of wherever they’re being kept and hitchhike back to California. 

And it’s too quiet that night.

“Alright, off to bed.” 

Aunt Wanda stands, putting down the gadget she’s been working on. She’d given Peter an old microwave and essentially told him to go to town taking it apart and putting it back together, which he has, and it’s pieces are scattered across the floor. Carefully, he picks them up, piling it all into his arms.

Usually it’s one of the robots that show him up to his bedroom. But there are no robots now.

“How do you know where to go?” Peter asks. The silence is almost deafening. 

“What do you mean?” Aunt Wanda asks, slowing her pace so that Peter isn’t walking behind her but instead is right beside her. 

“This house doesn’t make any sense.” Peter points out. “I’m not an idiot Aunt Wanda.”

“I never said you were.” Aunt Wanda says, honestly sounding surprised that Peter would ever feel the need to defend himself about that. “I guess for the most part I just don’t notice it. I did grow up here, you know. I’ve lived in this house my whole life.” 

“How do you know where to go?” Peter repeats. “This place is a big maze, and I think it changes too.”

Aunt Wanda’s pace slows and her head tilts to the side.

For a moment, Peter thinks he upset her. But her face is calm, almost happy even.

“It’s… shhh, quiet for a moment.” Peter is very quiet and listens very carefully. He doesn’t hear anything. “There’s… it’s not music, or sound, but it’s like the echo of where music or sound would be.”

Peter tries very hard to hear it. He still doesn’t. 

“And it tells you where to go?” Peter asks. 

“Not… exactly. But somewhat.” She says cryptically. “Give it time, you’ll hear it. You’ll get what I mean.”

The rest of the walk to Peter’s room is quiet. It’s less from lack of conversation, though, and much more of Peter straining his ears for the sound of nothing that was actually the sound of something. He doesn’t get anything out of it. 

They reach his room, and Peter stands in the doorway, staring at him window. There’s no robot there. 

“Something wrong?” Aunt Wanda picks up on his hesitance.

“It’s quiet.” Peter admits.

“You’ll hear the house eventually.” Aunt Wanda encourages him. Peter shakes his head.

“Uh, the automatons… usually they’ll sing when I’m going to sleep.” He admits, and ducks his head as he feels heat creep into his cheeks. He must be right red right now.

“Oh.” Aunt Wanda says. 

“Yeah.” Peter agrees.

“Well, get changed for bed. I was the one who asked them to leave, so I guess I’ll have to take over for them.” Aunt Wanda says and smiles down at Peter. 

Peter gets changed, just like Aunt Wanda says to, and when he’s in his bed and wrapped up in his blanket he tells her she can come in now. She has a small guitar-like instrument in her hands. 

“It’s called a ukulele.” She tells him. “The Spine picked it up during WWII.”

She strums a few chords. It has a pleasant sound to it, sound and bright.

And then Aunt Wanda sings.

The robots sing almost perfectly. The notes are pure and wonderful, a pitch as perfect as tuned piano. Aunt Wanda is not a robot. 

Her notes aren’t perfect. They’re shakey, and there’s sour notes, and sometimes she forgets lyrics and has to stop in the middle of singing to try and remember where she was. 

And it’s beautiful.

In the morning, she's not there anymore. But her radio has been moved into Peter's room. 


	8. In Which the Number of Peter's Doubles

The car honk interrupts Ms. Wilson’s lesson. 

There’s only maybe ten minutes left of class. He sits, bored out of his mind, making an effort to act like he’s listening to what Ms. Wilson is saying. It definitely didn’t help him focus that he could hear Aunt Wanda in the next room over. Yesterday and today she was working from home making a prototype of something or other. Peter had been too busy learning the ins and outs of their microwave to pay much attention. Norman occasionally would try to help Aunt Wanda, but it mostly just ended in frustration. Not Aunt Wanda frustrated with Norman, though; Norman got frustrated with himself. So he’s recently been cleaning the mansion to keep himself occupied. 

The car honks again, loud and more drawn out this time. Ms. Wilson huffs and folds her arms. 

“Truly etiquette is being forgotten these days.” She complains. “In my day, you went up to the door, not just honked from your car.”

“Can I go check out who it is?” Peter raises his hand like he’s in a class of a bunch of kids and not just himself talking to Ms. Wilson. “Uh, you know, so that way they stop interrupting your lesson?” Peter grins up at her in an effort to win her trust that that is the true and only reason to want to go outside. 

Ms. Wilson huffs again and looks at the clock, and then with a sigh starts to gather up her.

“I suppose you may. We’re just about done here after all.” Peter grins and jumps out of his seat almost too quickly, the chair balancing precariously on two legs before settling back down on all fours.

Aunt Wanda meets up with Peter as he gets to the door. Her hair had been put into a neat and tidy braid that morning, but now its all sticking out and she looks like she needs a nap or something. She hasn’t bothered with shoes, and the gloves she usually wears are off, hands covered in dark oil stains. Aunt Wanda self-consciously touches her braid at Peter’s inquisitive look. 

“I need a bit of a break.” She says in answer. “Telling somebody that we have a gate for a reason seems like a good place to start.”

Aunt Wanda takes the lead of going out of the manor and walking up to the front gate, unlocking it and pushing it open just enough to slip out from. The honking car was sitting on the road right outside of the manor. It’s clear that Aunt Wanda is in the mood for a fight by the set of her shoulders. Apparently Norman’s frustration has somehow caught on to Aunt Wanda. 

“If you’re here to sell us something, I can promise you we aren’t buying.” Aunt Wanda declares, hands on her hips

The shotgun door of the car opens, and out steps the Spine.

“The Spine!” Peter runs forward and hugs the Spine without a second thought. He’s not in his usual clothes, nor the clothes he left in. Instead he’s wearing army-green clothes that aren’t nearly as nice as his usual ones. The Spine hugs Peter back and picks him up, essentially carrying him back over to Wanda. The back door of the car opens and out climbs Rabbit and the Jon, who stand close to each other and side-by-side, both looking like they’re trying to keep from smiling too widely. Peter lets go of the Spine and lets his Aunt lean in and hug the Spine.

“I’ll admit, I’m impressed with their work.” Aunt Wanda says as she look at the Spine’s face.

“What, did you doubt the military’s ability to give us a reliable upgrade?” The Jon asks, faking some shock.

“I doubt  _ my own  _ ability to give you three any kind of useful update, and I was raised learning your circuitry.” Aunt Wanda rolls her eyes. 

There is a sound like somebody knocking on a piece of metal that comes from behind the Jon and Rabbit. 

“Oh m-my, who could th-that be?” Rabbit asks, no longer holding back his grin. Upgraded or not, he still apparently stutters. 

“Who indeed.” Aunt Wanda muses, turning her attention to the two other robots. “That’s not Upgrade, is it? I thought she was still at the Cavalcadium?” 

“Better than Upgrade - but don’t tell her I said that.” The Spine says. 

The Jon and Rabbit hop to the side, gesturing as if putting the person who had been hiding behind them out and on display. 

It’s a man, and he too is wearing green army clothes. He’s grinning ear to ear, and Aunt Wanda gasps when she sees him. She rushes forward, reaching out for the man, cupping his face in her still-oil-stained hands. The man gently places his hands on Wanda’s arms, head tipping slightly so the side and his grin never losing an inch of its cheer. Wanda’s hands move down to hold onto the man’s shoulders,

And then she pushes him down so that she’s able to ruffle his hair, making it into a rats nest, and the man pushes against he to get free - and then pushes her to be underneath his as he basically rips out the hairband that held Aunt Wanda’s hair in some semblance of a braid and ruffled it in kind. Aunt Wanda laughs brightly and tries to push him away.

“Alright, alright, you win this round.” She concedes and the man lets her go. Aunt Wanda starts to try and wrangle her hair back into something manageable while sticking her tongue out at the man, who sticks out his tongue right back at her.

“Hell yeah I win this round! Baby’s brother’s put on some muscle!” The man flexes, but with his long sleeves it’s impossible to see what he’s trying to show off. It is in the midst of his excessive flexing that he sees Peter, who has been standing awkwardly next to the Spine - in fact, a little bit behind the Spine - the entire reunion. There should be no conceivable way for the man to smile any more than he had when he was looking at Aunt Wanda, but somehow he manages to pull it off as he sweeps Peter off of his feet and into a big and tight hug. “And look at how big you are, Five!” 

“It- It’s Peter!” Peter essentially squeaks out. The man is, in fact, pretty strong and muscular, and Peter is actually having a bit of a hard time breathing due to the very strong hug he is wrapped up in. He’s set back on the ground just as suddenly as he was picked up and he almost falls over, only the Spine’s hand coming out and supporting his back stopping him from toppling over. “Hi, Uncle… Peter?” 

“Four’s fine,” Four assures Peter, “I’m only ‘Peter’ when I’m in trouble.” He stands back and looks Peter up and down as if drinking in Peter’s appearance, drinking in Peter as a person, as a real being he was looking at. Peter is now sure that Four’s grin is at maximum capacity, because it looks like it hurts with how big it is and it looks like he’s still trying to grin even more. “Wanda said in her letters you were finally home and the automatons talked a lot about you, but God, it’s really a whole other thing to finally see it!”

“It’s really neat to see you too.” Peter offers. 

“It’s been way too long since the whole family’s been home. Three’s always-” 

It’s like the world freezes. 

Nobody moves. Nobody seems to even breath. Even the general clinking background noise from the robots seems quieter than it usually is. 

“Why don’t we go inside?” Aunt Wanda breaks the silence. 

“Yeah, right, of course,” Four shakes his head, like snapping out of a trance of some kind. Some of the cheer has left his voice. “You still haven’t seen what I’ve added to the bots yet.” 

There’s some time between being in the driveway and getting back inside. The Jon picks up a bag from the car with Four’s things and the car finally drives away, and they pass Ms. Wilson on their way in just as she’s leaving. Aunt Wanda catches her and says that, due to family visiting, she won’t have to come in for a few days. Ms. Wilson seems understanding about that, and Peter swears she winks at Four. He also swears that Four winks right back. 

“I’ve been working on a new watch for Walter Robotics. Nothing fancy, just something that we can put a bunch of different designs onto. It should work for a long time, be very durable, and I want it to accurately show what kind of constellations are currently in the sky. You can guess which part is currently giving me the most trouble.”

“Do you need me to work my Peter magic on it?” Four waggles his eyebrows and Aunt Wanda pushes his face away. 

“Listen, if I can’t get it in another four days, you can give it a go. How long are you going to be home, by the way?” 

“I get a whole week for good behavior.” Four proclaims. “And also I factored it into the deal when they asked me to go to New Mexico and make some adjustments to the automatons.” 

“My brother, the shrewd businessman.” Aunt Wanda laughs. There’s something sad about that laugh. Peter doesn’t have to wonder about it long, though, as Four says with the same edge of sadness,

“Hey, I’d like to think Mark  _ still  _ holds the title of business sibling.” 

Aunt Wanda and Peter sit down on the couch while Four and the automatons stand on the other side of the coffee table in the living room. The second living room, that is. This isn’t the one with the fireplace. 

Now Peter gets a good look at the robots, and he can see that they actually do look a little different from the last time he saw them. The sharp angles of all of their faces have been smoothed and rounded out somewhat. Rabbit in particular used to have gaps without metal on the sides of his face, but that’s been covered over with new metal. Overall, it gives them a more human look.

Four talks about how he upgraded their sensors, so they’re better able to tell textures and heats and such from each other. The Jon’s commentary on this is that he’s never been more aware of just how hot his boiler is.

“They also wanted them to be on the cutting edge of technology - not that they aren’t already - but check this out.” Four runs over to the end table and pulls a pack of crayons out from it. Aunt Wanda raises her eyes as Four hands it to her. “Pick a crayon, any crayon.” 

She pulls the blue one out and Four takes it from her, presenting it to the robots. 

“My dear automatons, what do you see before?” 

“That g-g-green, right?” Rabbit asks, staring at the held out crayon. 

“No, Rabbit, we’ve been over this.” Four sighs and grabs the green crayon. “ _ This  _ is green.”

“Yeah, the other one is blue.” The Spine says smugly. 

“It kind of looks like purple. Are you sure it’s not purple?” The Jon asks. 

“Yes, I’m positive it’s not purple.” Four says. 

“Wait, do they finally have color vision?” Aunt Wanda asks excitedly. 

“Like I said, bleeding edge stuff here.” Four declares. “Also, the Spine, show Wanda your new party trick!” 

The Spine turns around, and Peter and Wanda watch as his namesake smoke stacks along his spine slip right into his back. 

“Wait, did you finally fix the overheating problem? Not even grandpa knew what to do about that!” Aunt Wanda gapes. 

“If I had managed that, then I promise I would be making a much bigger deal out of it.” As if to accent Four’s point, a gush of steam comes out of the Spine’s mouth as he says,

“They just don’t have to always be sticking out.” The smokestacks come back out with the sound of metal moving against metal. 

“I’ve also made some adjustments to their cores to help keep them in place, though I still need to modify Rabbit. He got a little, let’s say heated up, at the idea of having his core taken out away from home.”

“I’m n-not sorry.” Rabbit defends himself. 

“Hey, I don’t blame you.” Four pats Rabbit’s back before turning his attention back to Wanda. “And I also had to fix up the Jon’s leg and arm. I don’t know you have a toddler some wire cutters but it was just a mess in there.” He looks right at Wanda as he says it, smile widening as he speaks, and Wanda throws the rest of the crayons at him one by one. 

“Oh haha, yeah, make fun of the person who’s had to hold down the fort here while you run off and ‘get us money’ or whatever.” 

Four picks up the crayons and hurls them back at her. Peter grabs one of the pillows on the couch to use as a shield, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. 

He feels good to have his family back home. 


	9. Lessons on the Core

After the display of what had been added and adjusted on the automatons over the past couple weeks, Aunt Wanda starts to look over the Jon and the Spine while Four puts his hand on Rabbit’s shoulder.

“Alright Rabbit, let’s get you down to the workshop.”

“What? But we just got here!” Rabbit complains.

“Yeah, and if we get this over with then you won’t have time to run off and hide.” Four says cheerily. A jet of steam comes out of Rabbit’s arms as he turns away. 

“I wasn’t- why w-w-w-would I-”

“Rabbit, it’s no secret you hate a tune-up, much less an adjustment. C’mon, let’s get this over with, and I promise not to replace anything I don’t need to.” Four says, and this seems to make Rabbit relent enough to be guided out of the living room.

“Four, why don’t you take Peter with you?” Aunt Wanda suggests. Four looks surprised, looks at Peter, and then smiles. 

“Of course, yeah. C’mon Peter, let’s get you started on the family business.” 

Peter casts another look back at Aunt Wanda as he gets off the couch and starts to follow after Four. Four seems like a really nice man, but also Peter has only really known him for twenty minutes. Aunt Wanda gives him an encouraging nod of her head, though, so Peter trails after his uncle as they head to the elevator.

Walter Manor has a couple elevators, but if the house as a whole seemed unreliable at best when walking around, the buttons inside of the elevator seem to change around every single time Peter has been inside it.

Rabbit keeps shuffling about uncomfortably as the elevator moves down and down and down. Peter is fairly certain that most basements aren’t this far beneath the house. When it finally comes to a stop, giving a little *ding* at their arrival and the door opening once more, Peter isn’t sure what he’s expecting to see. The closest Peter has gotten to the workshop before was when the Jon needed to be fixed up. This is nothing like the dining room table with a bunch of tools around it. 

It looks like some crazy science-fiction laboratory. There’s a bunch of machines with glowy lights that Peter doesn’t have the slightest inkling what they do. There’s a ton of tools set out on tables in neat and orderly piles, as well as a bunch of cabinets that Peter can only imagine holds even more tools. In the center of the room is a metal chair that doesn’t look the slightest bit comfortable to sit in, and Four goes over and clicks some kind of switch or lever that makes it change from a chair into just a flat table of metal. 

“Do we h-have to do this r-r-right now?” Rabbit whines once more. He’s standing right next to the metal table and looking thoroughly upset about the whole thing. 

“Yes, Rabbit. It’s for your own good.” Four reminds Rabbit. Rabbit’s nose scrunches us. 

“I’ve sp-spent the p-p-past w-w-week shut off!” Rabbit complains.

“It’ll be a few hours, Rabbit. Don’t make me do it manually.” Four warns. Rabbit looks like he’s going to keep arguing for a moment before finally relenting with a big sigh followed by a huge puff of steam, climbing onto the metal table and lying down. All of his limbs gave off a bit more steam, and then he was still. Four pats Rabbit’s arm. “I promise, it won’t be long.”

“Can he still hear us?” Peter asks and Four shakes his head.

“Not when he’s off like this. In stand-by, the robots can usually pick up some things, enough to know whether they need to ‘wake up’ or not, but for this Rabbit’ll be off until I turn him back on. Under normal circumstances? He’d wake up after a day or so, but with what I’ll be doing he wouldn’t be able to do even that.” Four leaves Rabbit’s side and starts grabbing things from around the room, putting supplies onto a cart that looks just like the one Aunt Wanda had used when repairing the Jon. 

“What  _ are _ you going to do?” Peter stays near Rabbit, not wanting to accidentally touch something he shouldn’t.

“I’m going to make it a lot harder for someone who’s not a Walter to mess with his core.” Four wheels the cart over to Rabbit. “You see, each of the… where’s the chalkboard?”

“Ms. Wilson’s been using it upstairs.” Peter explains. Four looks confused. “... during my school lessons? I’m being homeschooled right now. You passed my tutor on your way in?”

“Oh, is that who that was? Well, I’ll be right back then.” 

Four went back up the elevator, leaving Peter with the still body of Rabbit.

Peter puts a hand on Rabbit’s arm. The robot doesn’t react, just like Four had said, but it still feels weird. It’s the first time he’s seen the automaton so still, like he was dead or something. The robot’s face has been modified since Peter last saw him, and now Peter has the chance to see it up close. It looks… wrong, somewhat. Maybe he just needs more time to get used to it. It looks so close to how Rabbit used to look, but just enough different that Peter decides he misses Rabbit’s old look.

It’s not long before Four returns with the chalkboard, wheeling it to sit a little ways from Rabbit’s head, and then rifling through a drawer and pulling out a few pieces of chalk and two pairs of goggles, tossing one over to Peter.

“Alright, so what do you know about cores?” Four asks before he starts drawing anything.

“Uh,” Peter’s brow furrows as he thinks back to what Aunt Wanda told him, “They’re dangerous, and they power the robots, right?”

“More or less.” Four agrees and starts sketching some lines on the board. “Did Wanda show you any of the cores?” 

“Just the Jon’s.” Peter says and Four nods and draws three different pictures.

“So then what you saw looked mostly like this.” Four points to third picture on the blackboard, showing a cylinder holding a circle. Peter nods. “The Jon’s core was built last of the three, and by then grandpa knew a bit more about what he was doing. How contained to keep the core without making it likely to destabilize. Upgrade’s looks a lot like this too. Then we have the Spine’s core. His is easily the weirdest of the three.” 

Four points to the second picture he’d drawn, and it is definitely the most different from the other two. It’s long and thin, and the circle inside was much less of a circle and much more like an oval. 

“Why’s it so different?” Peter asks. Four shrugs.

“Honestly? No clue. Who knows what grandpa was thinking. It doesn’t seem to have any problem powering the Spine - if anything, it’s like it does it’s job  _ too well,  _ hence the Spine’s heating problem. All the other automatons have their cores in the center of their chest, except for the Spine. His is located right along his, well, spine, so if you need to do some kind of emergency work, that’s where you’re going to find it. And then there’s Rabbit, who we’re going to be working with today.” Four points to the first picture he’d drawn.

This one depicts a circle with a smaller circle inside of it. Not much smaller, though. It doesn’t have nearly as much empty space as the Jon or the Spine’s cores do. Instead of giving another brief explanation, Four goes over to Rabbit and, with a ‘sorry’, takes off Rabbit’s shirt. While the robot’s face may’ve had adjustments made to make him appear more human, his torso is a lot like when Peter had seen the Jon’s - almost skeletal in nature, or like if somebody was really dehydrated and then also made out of metal. Four opens up the chest, opens up the orb inside, and then Peter once more sees the thing that has been lying on the edges of his dreams.

It’s not exactly the same as Peter remembers it. It’s the same color of blue, of swirling shades that don’t mix together but then sometimes do, nebulous almost. But there’s also a dull two lines that run across it, like cracks.

“Careful there.” 

Peter flushes when Four has to grab his wrist to keep him from running a finger across the lines. 

“Sorry.” Peter mumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Nothing to be sorry about. Blue Matter can do some crazy things. Being drawn to it is really only natural.” Four assures Peter. “Honestly, that’s half the reason we used to have maids and assistants and the like - somebody to snap you out of a project with blue matter if you get too lost in it.” 

“What’s wrong with Rabbit’s core?” Peter asks, and trusts himself enough to take his hand out of his pocket and point at the core from a decent distance. Four grabs a pair of gloves from the cart and puts them on, as well as handing a pair to Peter that are too big for him and uncomfortable. WIth the gloves on, Four runs a finger across the cracks, just barely grazing the orb. 

“Grandpa never told me. It used to be smaller, but it’s gotten a little bit bigger over time. Unfortunately, I don’t know enough about blue matter yet to fix it, and my studying has been… put on hold, recently. Three also used to say he was going to work on it but…” Four’s voice trailed off and Peter thought Four wasn’t going to finish his thought until he continued, voice now sounding strangled, “But I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own now.” 

Peter doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he could say. 

“Anyway,” Four continues, his voice once again back normal. He closes the core, shutting away the blue matter, and gestures to the area surrounding the core, “What I’m doing is making some tweaks around here. There was an, well let’s call it an accident for now, where Rabbit lost his core and it ended up causing trouble. That’s when some shit went down and my dad and Wanda’s husband were killed.”

“Aunt Wanda was married?” Peter says before he can stop himself and then promptly shows his hands over his mouth. Four chuckles.

“Yup, she was. To Professor Guy Hottie - don’t look at me like that, it was his real name! It’s not my fault our family seems to attract craziness, even in the form of last names. He was a smart guy from what I can remember. Anyway, that’s not the point,” Four shakes his head as if dislodging the train thought altogether in order to get it back on the right track, “Now that the military has been showing an interest in the automatons, I’m making it a lot harder to open the core or get it out of them unless you know what you’re doing.”

And with that, Four takes the entire core out of Rabbit. The nearly-silent background sound of the boiler becomes silent. 

Four has Peter hand him things when he needs them, and then points out to Peter what he’s doing and the names of the different parts of the core, as well as what they’re supposed to do. And probably most importantly, continually talking about how dangerous what he’s doing is and how Peter ‘you need to be really careful, okay? This isn’t something to take lightly.’ 

“Do you ever get tired of it?” 

Four stops what he’s doing. Their goggles have been swapped out for welding masks as Four melts metal pieces together. The flame is put out and Four lifts his mask, looking at Peter curiously. 

“Tired of what?” Four asks. Peter almost backtracks, almost insists that it’s nothing, but steals himself to continue. 

“Do the automatons every… stop seeming so amazing?” Peter tries to figure out a way to phrase it. He’s not entirely sure how well he succeeds, but apparently it’s enough for Four to smile, looking over at Rabbit’s still and now very cold metal body. 

“No, I don’t think they do. I still remember when they came back from World War II. Standing on our doorsteps, metal all dented, clothes torn because the military wouldn’t give them new ones, and just how… awesome they were.” Four recalls, eyes closing for a minute. “But I guess I also spent the past four years knowing that someday I’d be the next Peter to learn how to maintain them. Maybe it’s different for you.”

Peter remembers seeing the Spine standing there in the matron’s room at the orphanage, tall and looming. He looks over at Rabbit now, weeks later.

“I think I’m the same.” Peter decides.

“That’s a Walter!” Four grins. “Now I think you’ve had enough watching. Ready to give welding a try?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick thank you to SarahMeachum, the very best commenter who comments all the time :D   
> For those of you who love four, don't worry he'll be here for a few more chapters :)  
> got any thoughts or questions? Don't be afraid to voice them!


	10. Laying the Dead to Rest

They end up having to start the piece that Four had been working with completely over, because Peter ended up blowing a hole in the metal with the welding torch considering it was his first time trying to weld. This led to Four setting Peter up with his own torch and piece of metal on little ways away to practice welding.

“You have a lot of torches.” Peter observed when Four got one out for him.

“My grandpa and my dad and uncle apparently used to work on projects together.” Was Four’s answer. 

Peter had expected welding to be tricky, and he was exactly right.

“I’m sure you can convince Wanda to come down here with you sometimes to practice. I’m not sure I’d trust you to handle it without somebody watching you just yet.” Was Four’s advice as he started to wrap up his own work. To emphasize his point that Peter shouldn’t weld alone, he lifted up his pant leg to reveal the twisted up painful-looking scar that Four insists doesn’t really hurt now but ‘hurt like fucking hell’ when he got it. 

Four also shows Peter the locations of some other things; blueprints and files and such, including the new instructions of how to take out each other different cores from the robots if he needed to. But not how to read or interpret them. Four promises to teach Peter at a later time, but right now it’s time to see if he’s hooked Rabbit’s core up correctly. While before when Peter had taken out the core, it had come out with minimal trouble, putting it back in was another matter that was clearly attributed to Four’s work on it. There was a lot of clicking and turning and twisting, but eventually the orb sat in Rabbit’s chest just as it had before. 

“How do we turn him back on?” Peter asks as Four closes Rabbit’s chest up. 

“There’s a couple ways to do it. We have a remote somewhere in there,” Four gestures vaguely to one of the drawers, “But you can also just do this.” 

With Peter’s help, Four manages to lift and then flip Rabbit onto his stomach so that they have access to his back, and then follows what Aunt Wanda had done when fixing up the Jon. Rabbit’s secret back panel is a lot higher up on his back and so flush with the rest of the metal it was almost indistinguishable, but the buttons for the most part look the same.

Four clicks the button. And then just like that closes the panel back up. 

“Wait, is that it?” Peter asks as he helps Four flip Rabbit back over. The robot is still motionless.

“Give it a minute, the boiler has to reheat.” Four says. “Steam-powered, remember?”

“Aren’t they, uh, blue-matter powered though?” Peter presses.

“Eh, kind of? The blue matter is kind of like their processor, and their engine, but it’s the steam that really enables most of their movement-functions. So Rabbit’s ‘on’ right now, he can probably hear us, but it’ll be until his steam gets going again that he’ll be able to move about.”

It takes a little less than minute for Rabbit to blink his eyes open again, gears turning once more as he sits up. He goes through a few movements with each of his limbs, uncharacteristically quiet and focused as he does so. When he raps his knuckles on his chest.

“Feels like I’ve got a-a-a w-weight on my chest a-a-a-all of a sud-den.” Rabbit cracks a kind of crooked smile. 

“Yeah, well that weight’s going to keep the past from repeating itself.” Four assures Rabbit. 

“What t-time is it?” Rabbit hops off the table and stretches out. Peter isn’t sure why he does it. Do Rabbit’s limbs get stiff?

“It’s been - oh geez, it’s already seven?” 

“So much-much for the buddy system th-th-there.” Rabbit teases.

“More than anything I’m surprised Wanda didn’t come down and pull us away.” Peter says, putting the different instruments away and taking off his gloves. He kept the goggles on him, though, letting them hang around his neck. “Alright, let’s head up and hope there’s dinner.” 

They all climb onto the elevator and Peter looks suspiciously at the buttons. They are the same this time - for the most part. The color might be different, though. Four doesn’t seem to have noticed, or if he did he doesn’t comment on it, just hits a button and the elevator starts to move up.

“Of course, eventually you’ll need to get more familiar with the basements. That’s just the main tune-up lab, but we have a lot of others down there. Wanda’s more familiar with just how much is down there than I am, and even then I doubt she knows the full extent. What can I say? Grandpa didn’t do things in halves, and neither does blue matter.” Four shrugs.

“Great-Grandpa sounds… extravagant.” Peter says, for lack of a better word. He sort of wants to say that Great-Grandpa sounds crazy, but in a good sort of way that meant he made the three automatons but also made a ridiculously huge mansion.

“He definitely dreamed big. Right up to the end.” Four shakes his head with a fond but small smile on his face. 

The smell of dinner is dense throughout the first floor and Peter finds himself taking in big sniffs. It’s some kind of meat tonight. Next to Peter, Rabbit’s head tilts to the side. 

“There’s… what  _ i-is  _ that?” 

“You mean it’s working?” Four grins at Rabbit. He puts a finger to his lips and winks conspiratorially at both Rabbit and Peter, “Okay, keep it under wraps for now. I can’t imagine you’re getting a lot yet. It’s some preliminary scent sensors I put in back in New Mexico. Something that can pick up more particles in the air. But it’s still in the testing stage.” 

“Four! Is that you?” Aunt Wanda’s voice carries through the rooms just as strongly as the smell of dinner. “Finally came out of your cave?” 

“Hey, I have a bone to pick with you!” Four shouts back. “Peter has been here for  _ how long  _ and still didn’t know how to use a torch? You missed his first welding project!”

“Did you even tell him how to use it responsibly?” By now they can see Aunt Wanda standing in the doorway to the dining room. She’s cleaned up a bit since Peter last saw her. Any effort to keep her hair up has since been abandoned and her hands are no longer covered in oil. 

“He didn’t burn any fingers off.” Four assures her.

“That’s not the right answer.” Aunt Wanda replies. “You’d better walk him through what he’s supposed to wear when working tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Peter repeats.

“Well one of us still has work, and I’m not going to set a kid loose with half a knowledge of how to use a torch. You know how that’s going to end.” Aunt Wanda says.

“Hey, I only seriously burned myself once, for the record.” Four reminds her.

“Once is all it really takes.” Aunt Wanda shoots right back. But for all the words flung back and forth between them, Aunt Wanda looks happier every second she looks at Four. There’s something familiar about the look that Peter can’t quite put his finger on.

Norman has already got dinner all spread out. And there’s a decent amount to spread out this time. There’s some cooked vegetables sitting in a bowl, and the roast on a large platter with really big forks next to it to shred it. The Spine and the Jon are already sitting at the table with their glass of water. They both have papers in front of them and the crayons from earlier are scattered between them as they scribble away.

“Sc-scoot over, give me a pape-paper!” Rabbit runs over and sits down right next to the Spine. 

“Norman, you’re still here?” Aunt Wanda had left the doorway to go sit down in her usual seat, but instead of following after her now it was Four standing in the doorway as he regarded the monstrous man. Norman sits in his own normal seat and looks like he’s trying to avoid looking Four in the eyes while also not too obvious looking away.

“Yes, I am. Your uncle, he, well, he made it clear I was welcome here. Now that I’m, well, not welcome at home.” There’s an awkward silence, but eventually Four nods slowly. 

“Okay.” Four says, “Well, let’s start digging in, huh? Robotics is hungry work.” 

oOo

“I want to go see Three.” 

Four says it just as dinner is wrapping up. 

“Four-”

“No, Wanda, I just… I need to see it.” Four insists. 

“Four, you just got home.” Aunt Wanda begs.

“You’re sitting in his seat.” Four doesn’t yell it. His voice barely changes. It’s been smooth and clear. His eyes, however, refuse to leave a certain spot on the table. “I keep expecting him to come in at any second and tell you to move. But he’s not going to walk in. And my brain knows that, but I keep, I just keep looking at the doorway and I don’t want to spent the week I’m home just… waiting.” 

“Four.” Aunt Wanda is out of her seat in a heartbeat, wrapping her arms around Four. Four isn’t crying, but he looks sad and defeated. Aunt Wanda isn’t crying either, but she has the same look as Four.

“And it wouldn’t hurt to visit dad, right?” Four finally looks up. 

The robots don’t accompany them out, but Aunt Wanda and Four do invite Peter to come with them, and Peter agrees. The sun has set, the world steadily growing darker. Aunt Wanda has the sense to bring a flashlight with them, though there hasn’t been a need to turn it on yet. The walk to the graveyard feels faster than it had during the funeral, and instead of morose walking, Four and Wanda make conversation. Peter only half listens. A lot of it goes over his head - details about the Walter Robotics company and how it’s been fairing.

“Sorry it’s been so long everyone.” Four says, slipping out of the conversation to greet the tombstones without missing a beat. “Been busy with the Marines and all.” 

How often have they done this?

“C’mon, we put him right next to dad. You know they’d want to be close.” Wanda takes the lead to the grave. The lot that had been dug up still doesn’t look like the ground around it, but it’s less noticeable than it originally was. 

The tombstone is made out of carved rock. It looks sort of like a person reaching out to the tombstone next to it, one of two abstract people holding onto each other. The reaching person’s tombstone bears the name ‘Peter A. Walter III’ while the adjacent one has both ‘Peter A. Walter II’ and ‘Mary Mickleson Walter’.

“It looks good.” Four says. “I’m surprised you didn’t just make a whole new tombstone for all three of them, like you did for dad and mom.”

“Kept getting tears in my eyes, it would’ve taken too long.” Wanda replies. 

“You carved all of these?” Peter asks quietly, with every intent not to ask again if she didn’t hear him. But she did and she answers him with a small laugh.

“No, not all of them, just a few. It started with a special request in Mark’s will.” Wanda smiles sadly at the tombstone for Peter’s mom and dad - two people standing with a gap between them, like they were supposed to be holding something up together but whatever it was had been taken out. “He knew I always wanted to go into sculpting. I guess some things, though, just weren’t meant to be.” 

“I guess seeing you next time never came, huh?” Four is still in front of Three’s grave, still talking to a man who is not alive. A small shake goes through him for a moment, but then passes. But then returns as he shakes, collapsing to his knees, and Wanda kneels next to him and holds him. 

And she looks at Peter, and Peter realizes that Wanda looks at him with the same look she gives Four. Like his mere existence brightens her life. 


	11. Of Beciles and Walters

“Peterpeterpeterpeterpeter!”

Peter opens his eyes, groggy from sleep and disoriented from the shouting growing closer and closer. This morning, it’s the Jon who is standing in his room, this time holding the banjo that, even amidst the shouts, continues to strum slow chords in a comforting twang. 

The curtain that still acts as his door is flung aside as Four - wearing the same clothes he was in yesterday - bursts in. His hands are covered in something big and brown that Peter’s brain refuses to process as he continues to try and wake up, each blink taking effort to keep his eyes open. 

“Four?” Peter yawns, jaw opening wide and preventing him from saying anything else.

“Peter look what I found in my- oh hey the Jon, what are you doing here?” Four’s sentence is sharply derailed as he sees the Jon sitting on Peter’s windowsill. The bronze robot smiles at Four, still strumming.

“Just playing Peter a little something to help him sleep.” The Jon replies.

“Well, that explains why I had Rabbit and his accordion last night.” Four says, standing up straight and hands on his hips. “I guess us Peter’s have a lot in common, huh?”

“Are those your old baseball gloves?” The Jon asks, nodding to the brown mitts on Four’s hands. Four jumps and looks down at his hands, like he’d forgotten that there was anything on there, and then that excited and almost electrically charged grin reappears on his face. 

“I found my old baseball mitts! Well, my mitt and Mark’s mitt, and also dad’s and Three’s. This one’s dad’s and this one’s mine. You can even see where mom stitched my name onto it.” One of the mitts does clearly fit Four’s hand while his other hand is stuffed with mostly just his fingers able to squeeze. 

“Your baseball glove?” Peter repeats, sitting up more and rubbing at his eyes. It he had water he’d splash it on his face to help wake up. 

“And some balls, though Mark and I did sometimes substitute with metal parts if we couldn’t find any. You never forget your first concussion.” Four reminices, looking off into the distance as if he could see the memory playing out before him again. “Anyway, do you want to play some catch?” 

“Catch.” Peter says.

“If you don’t, that’s fine too. I mean, I imagine you probably have a lot to do. I also have things I’ll need to do, you know?” Four assures Peter, and Peter rubs his eyes again and looks at Four. Four has gone from looking at Peter with a grin to put the sun to shame to looking at anywhere but Peter. Peter raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment.

“It’s just been awhile since I’ve played catch. Sure, I’m up for it.” Peter says and the grin is back.

“Can I play?” The Jon raises his hand and waves it around eagerly. At first it looks like Four is going to say yes, but then he seems to reconsider. 

“Uh, maybe not this time, the Jon. I’m pretty sure Wanda’ll kill me if Peter gets hurt on my watch, and you guys have quite the throwing arms built in there.” Four says apologetically.

“That’s alright, the Jon actually has plans with Rabbit and I.” When the Spine had gotten to Peter’s doorway, he’s not sure, but he stands there now with his guitar slung across his back. Peter jumps a bit, but both the Jon and Four look unsurprised by the Spine’s sudden appearance. 

“What’re you up to?” Four asks as he takes off the smaller glove and tosses it to Peter, who is just barely awake enough to catch it. Four claimed his name was stitched on it, and it takes Peter a moment to recall that the faded and frayed ‘IV’ is what he’s referring to. 

“We’ve got some songs to practice. We have some plans to start busking again, but we want to roll out some new material with it, maybe some covers of some recent songs too.” The Spine explains.

“You just want to play ‘Maybelline’ in front of an audience, don’t you?” The Jon stops playing so that he can put his hands on his hips. The Spine has a jet of steam come out of his back.

“Th-that’s not, you know that-”

“I’m just teasing you, the Spine. C’mon, let’s get started. Or started tracking down Rabbit, at least.” The Jon laughs and goes over to the Spine, slinging an arm across the automatons shoulders and guiding him out of Peter’s room leaving him alone with Four. Peter tries the baseball glove on. It’s hard to tell whether or not it fits well. Back at the orphanage, there were only a few baseball gloves, so one couldn’t be too picky about which one they got - and that was if they were lucky enough to have one. Most of the time, Peter’d have to catch the ball with his bare hands. 

“So, catch?” Four repeats, tossing the white ball into the air and catching it in his mitt with a thwump. 

“Can I get breakfast first?” Peter asks. Four looks taken aback, then looks at the clock on Peter’s wall. 

“Huh. I’m not sure if I thought it’d be earlier or later than that. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. You go get breakfast and I should probably take a nap or something before Wanda chains me to my bed. I mean, she’s never don’t that before. Nah, ‘Four Rangling’ was usually Mark’s job.” Four flashes another smile at Peter and then leaves.

_ He says ‘Mark’ so easily _ , Peter thinks as he gets dressed. The words ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ are like a foreign language on Peter’s tongue. They’re simple words, but there’s a fear in him that if he tries to say them they’ll come out wrong, they’ll reveal that he barely had a chance to say mom or mother or mama. Any practice he’s had has surely been left to fall to the wayside. He can’t decide whether calling them ‘Mark’ and ‘Judith’ would be better or worse.

Aunt Wanda isn’t in the dining room that morning, and neither is Norman, leaving Peter to scrounge around the kitchen for some pieces of bread to toast and spread some butter on. It’s a bland breakfast to be sure, but he doesn’t really mind it, and it’s actually kind of nice to sit down at the table alone. It doesn’t feel lonely, because he knows that there’s people in the house who live here, and if he just shouts loud enough the automatons will probably drop right down from the chandelier somehow. 

He waits for Four outside, baseball mitt in hand, running a finger across the ‘IV’ over and over again. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expected - Peter A. Walter embroidered all the way out? Just Peter, or maybe Four? - but ‘IV’... well it made Peter think of just a ‘V’, the ‘V’ he refuses to acknowledge. 

“Heads!” 

Peter jumps, getting his gloved hand up just in time to knock away the baseball, failing to catch it but not getting hit. Four is leaning out of a second story window, then climbs out and makes his way down along the thin ledges of the manor. It’s easy to see how Rabbit was able to do the same all those months ago when he first visited Peter in his room. 

“Hi Four.” Peter greets. “How was your nap?”

“Short lived. I just can’t seem to get any rest here. Not that I’m not comfortable or anything. I think it might be finally being surrounded by blue matter again? Who knows.” Four shrugs, taking up a place a decent distance away from Peter, punching the inside of his baseball glove and crouching slightly into a ready position, getting up onto the balls of his feet. “Anyway, let’s see what you’ve got.” 

They tossed the ball back and forth. Despite Four’s claim that he didn’t want the Jon joining them because he’d throw the ball too hard, Four had quite the arm himself. The first few throws were soft, but then as Four got into the rhythm they grew in intensity until Peter could feel it through the leather. Peter himself wasn’t too good of a throw, but Four didn’t seem to mind.

“Did you see Aunt Wanda today?” Peter asks after some time. Four jumps and catches the baseball before it can go past him. “She usually eats breakfast with me.”

“I think I forgot breakfast.” Four muses before answering. “Yeah, she came down to Delilah’s room to pick up some things. I think she and Norman are getting her presentation ready for the board. They have to work early because, well, you’ve seen Norman.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with Norman, he looks really cool!” Peter defends. Four makes a non-committal sound and cocks his head to the side. 

“I’m not going to agree to either of those things, but he looks how he looks I guess and he brought  _ that  _ shit upon himself. I’ve got some problems with Norman but rest assured, his looks are not one of them.” Four says, throwing the ball back at Peter and Peter has to stop himself from getting out of the way. He still doesn’t catch the ball and it rolls past him.

“What do you have against Norman?” Peter asks, chasing after the ball. Four frowns.

“Eh, I’m not sure it’s my place to say. He’s a Becile, you know? Becile’s and Walter’s just aren’t supposed to get along, and Norman’s done some shitty things in the past but he also did a thing or two to try and be less shitty.”

“What’s a Becile?” Peter continues, throwing the ball, and the question seems to catch Four off guard as the ball soars past him.

“They haven’t told you about Colonel Peter and the Weekend War?!” Four gaps at Peter. Peter shifts around, looking at the ground. 

“Uh, no, they haven’t. Is it important?” 

“Is it- Hell yeah it’s important! Ah man, it’s a story of love and death and betrayal and the whole point behind why we have cool automaton uncles!” Four says. “It’s about lunch time, right? C’mon, let’s grab something to eat and I get to tell you the best story we have!” 

There’s lemonade in the refrigerator and Four pours both of them a glass while Peter grabs out bread and cheese and ham to make simple sandwiches for the two of them. They don’t bother going into the dining room. Instead, Four just climbs up onto the counter and sits with his legs crossed and Peter does the same. 

“Alright, so my grandpa - your great-grandpa - was Peter A. Walter I, the one we’re both named after. He was a scientist and an inventor, so naturally his best friend was also a scientist and an inventor: Thaddeus Becile. They were also trying to show each other up as a kind of friendly rivalry. But comes along what leads to most men’s downfalls.” Four narrates. 

“Is this where the death comes in?” Peter asks. Four takes a long sip of lemonade and shakes his head. 

“Not just yet. See, there was this brilliant woman: Delilah Morreo. So both Walter and Becile decided to try and impress her with their inventions. Becile made copper elephants. But Walter wouldn’t be beat. He had plans to make a huge giraffe and singing automatons to serenade her. What can I say, carrying a tune just isn’t in our family.” Four doesn’t seem upset about this fact. “But she never got to see the results, because before Walter could finish, Morreo got sick and died.”

“Just like that?” Peter blinks. 

“Just like that. Grandpa eventually loved again, but I think he was really depressed for a while. And sure, she died without even meeting the automatons, but we kind of have her to thank for them being built in the first place. And her part in the story isn’t actually quite finished yet. See, Becile got this crazy idea to bring her back to life.” Four continues. 

“That’s impossible.” Peter says immediately. He was young and naive, maybe, but he was very familiar with death already. 

“It’s… actually a bit more debatable than you might think. But it’s definitely not what Morreo would’ve wanted, and Becile was going to put a lot of people at risk with his plans. He built an army of copper elephants, and the army asked Walter to help take them down. That’s the first way the automatons got involved in - the Weekend War in Africa, where over three days our ‘bots fought against his elephants, led by the completed and ginormous steam powered giraffe, named Delilah after the dead scientist herself. And that’s why Beciles hate Walters and Walters hate Beciles.” Four finishes and takes another bite out of his sandwich.

“That’s it?” Peter’s brow furrows. “That had to’ve been a long time ago, though.”

“Yeah, well, grudges stick around, and someday you’ll meet with some Beciles who aren’t Norman and you’ll get it.” Four assures him. Peter frowns.

“But why do you hate Norman in particular then?” Peter asks. Four shakes his head.

“Hey, I never said I hate Norman. I’m neutral to Norman. I _ hate. Ignatius. Becile.”  _ Four’s face twists up into such intense Fury that Peter reels away from him, venom dripping from Four’s words in a tone that Peter has never heard from him before. 

“Sorry.” Peter says automatically and Four’s face smooths out, no hint of the anger from before.

“You have nothing to be sorry about, Peter. Just remember to be careful, okay? The Becile’s biggest problem is they mess carelessly with things they don’t understand. We Walters are better than that. You’ll have to try and get Wanda to tell you the story sometime, though; she tells it way better than I do.” Four says. 

“It sounds like a pretty cool story.” Peter agrees and Four grins.

“I had my mom tell it too much when I was a kid. Who knows, maybe someday  _ I’ll  _ have a story people will be telling for years.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you liked it :D churning out a fic like this is tough, especially with everything else going to shit all around us lol
> 
> The story of Colonel Walter will actually be revisited eventually, but that's way in the future of the fic. So if you're sitting there like 'wow, that's an extremely barebones version of the story', yes, yes it is


	12. A Goodbye For Now

A week never passed faster than this one with Four.

It feels like Peter’s only just met his uncle when Four is sitting in the living room, bag of basic necessities at his feet, dressed once more in his army-green clothes as they wait for the military to come and get him, return him back to duty, back to danger. Wanda is having a bit of a hard time with that last thing in particular. 

“You promise you’re going to be careful?” She asks him. It’s about the thirteenth time today she’s asked him that, and last night during dinner she’d asked him about ten more times. Four gave a long and dramatic sigh that Peter had a feeling at this point was only half faked as he answered her. 

“Yes, Wanda, I’m going to be careful. You know it takes a lot to keep me down.” He says, and it sounds like he’s bragging about something or other, but what exactly that is goes right on past Peter. Wanda rolls her eyes with enough force to reverse the spinning of the world.

“Oh forgive me for worrying about my little brother going out into deathly danger.” This is her typical comeback to what is Four’s typical reply. 

“You didn’t worry this much when the automaton’s were sent out to WWII.” Four points out and Wanda rolls her eyes yet again. This actually engages the automatons. Rabbit is the first to give a bubbling huff, then the Jon shortly after with a chuckle badly smothered into cough (did robots even need to cough?), and then finally the Spine into a great guffaw that gets all three of them laughing, steam pouring out of their mouths.

“She didn’t- OH that’s T-TOO GOOD!” Rabbit shouts in between bursts of laughter. Wanda’s face becomes a bright shade of crimson that she tries to hide in her hands to little avail. It’s practically a beacon in the room. 

“Oh? So that’s not the case?” Instead of looking upset at being wrong about something, Four grins widely and mischievously. Aunt Wanda makes a sound like a dying cat and kicks Four’s leg. 

“Wanda threw what can only be called a tantrum when we were sent off to war.” The Spine recalls. 

“I was fourteen!” Aunt Wanda wails. 

“She didn’t come out of her room the entire week before we were supposed to leave, and then she tried to shut us down before we could leave the manor.” The Jon adds

“For the record, I did managed to shut you down!” Aunt Wanda points out, and it’s unclear whether this is supposed to be a positive or negative point about her reaction.

“Wh-what we’re saying is, j-j-just be glad she-she’s not breaking your legs-s-s.” Rabbit concludes and Peter laughs.

“I’ve never heard that story before! How did I never know about this?” Four asks, looking at the robots. 

“I think you were’ a little preoccupied at the time refusing to let go of my leg and trying to get the Jon to take you with him by hiding in his shirt.” The Spine says. Four blinks, clearly not recalling this, and a similar bright blush to compliment Aunt Wanda’s starts to take over his face. 

“I was four!” He defends himself. 

“And you were so cute!” The Jon coos at the memory. “I’m still so sad we never go to see you grow up.” 

“I guess that’s another thing that runs in the family.” Peter says, quietly enough that it’s almost a mumble, but with how close everybody is sitting they all hear him. It earns him a laugh from everybody and Four claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“You really are just a mini version of me, you know that?” Four says, and Peter smiles because looking at how cool Four is, that doesn’t seem like a terrible thing to be. “Which reminds me, I need you to make me a promise.” 

“A promise?” Peter repeats and Four nods. 

“Now, I’ve written you letters before, and Wanda writes me a letter a week, but you rarely ever write me letters. Which, hey, I could deal with that when I barely knew you, but now that I know how cool of a kid you are I’m going to want to hear from you at least once month. Got it?” 

“Got it.” Peter says. It’s nice, knowing that Four’s feeling about Peter had been similar to Peter’s feelings about Four. It had felt really weird, the few times he’d written a letter to Four; what are you supposed to write to somebody you only remember in the barest and vaguest stretch of the word?

“Good, I need somebody to keep at eye on Wanda, and I definitely don’t trust these buckets of bolts to do that.” Four’s voice sounds like he’s whispering, and he puts his hand by his mouth as if to keep the others from overhearing, but he’s clearly speaking loud enough that the intend is for everybody to hear him. They do, while both the Jon and Rabbit looks like that’s a fair assessment, the Spine puts his hand to chest and opens his mouth in shock. 

“I will have you know that I’m great at keeping people out of trouble! What do you think I’ve been doing with these two for the past fifty years?” The Spine complains, waving a hand to his fellow automatons.

“Oh, yeah, and who’s fault was it when Mark and I got lost in the woods?” Four says.

“Rabbit’s!” The Spine says. Four pauses and thinks this over.

“Oh yeah, I guess it was Rabbit. Huh.” The Spine looks like he’s going to say something but Four shakes his head. “Ah, c’mon the Spine, you know I’m just messing with you. But let’s also face it, if anybody is going to remember to remind Wanda to do normal human things like, say, eat and sleep, another human is probably the best candidate.” 

It seems that Spine can’t find a way to refute that and after opening and closing his mouth a few times it says closed as a small puff of steam poofs out from his smoke stacks. 

The cheerful and joking atmosphere is shattered as a honk comes from the road. The car is here to take Four away. 

“Well…” Aunt Wanda says.

“Well…” Four echoes. 

Aunt Wanda, the automatons, and Peter follow behind Four as he walks to the front door, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he approaches the edge of his home. 

“Wanda, I need you to promise me something too.” Four says as he opens the door, almost gone but still there, still within arm’s reach. “I know you’ve been busy and all, but could you try to make some more time to teach Peter about mechanics and such?” 

“I… yeah, I know I haven’t been on top of that. He just seems so young, but… I mean, I was taking things apart and putting them back together by the time I was six…” Aunt Wanda trails off, gaze far off as she recalls back when she was younger. “Yes, Peter has a lot to learn. We have a lot of catching up to do still.” 

The automatons take turns hugging Four, each one wishing him good luck and to stay safe. Four bends down enough that Peter can hug him without it being too awkward. Peter had been looking forward to getting to know Four. It felt like this was all too fast, a glimpse at more family, more people who cared about him and Peter could find himself caring about. 

When it’s Aunt Wanda’s turn to hug Four, she holds him tightly, tight enough that Peter is willing to bet it hurts. Four doesn’t complain, though, just hugs her back with just as much force.

None of them follow him out the door as Four passes through the doorway that was home, down the driveway, and pulling open the gate just enough that he can slip through. He looks back at them and gives one more wave. 

Aunt Wanda stands in the doorway, looking down the road, long after the car is gone.

oOo

“Aunt Wanda?” 

Peter knocks on the doorway of Aunt Wanda’s room. She actually has a door, painted bright red with a curvy ‘W’ in gold, but it’s wide open. She’s sitting at a desk and jerks away from her concentration at what was in front of her. 

“Oh, Peter, the Jon, hi. Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Aunt Wanda asks, running a hand through her hair like she was trying to fix it and then patting it as if decided that it just wasn’t worth the effort. 

“Peter wanted to come talk to you.” The Jon explains. Peter does his best not to wrinkle the paper in his hands too badly as he stands there, Aunt Wanda looking at him in confusion. 

“You weren’t in the living room today after dinner.” Peter defends himself. Aunt Wanda nods. 

“Yeah, sorry. I just needed some time to think. What do you need?” 

“Well, a few years ago, my class learned how to write letters,” Peter starts, thinking it important to point out that maybe he didn’t have a private tutor when he was at the orphanage but his education hadn’t been terrible, “But I can’t really remember how it’s supposed to go.” 

“Oh.” Aunt Wanda blinks. “Oh, yes, absolutely, come in and I’ll help you write a letter.” 

“I’ll be waiting for you in your room.” The Jon says and walks away, leaving Peter alone with Aunt Wanda. 

Aunt Wanda pulls another pen out of her desk and starts to grab out another piece of paper until Peter shows off that he did come prepared with that at least. 

She tells him how to start with ‘Dear’ and then the person’s name, though since the letter is going to Four he can really start it however he wants. She shows him how to indent when he starts writing, and that he needs to indent at each new paragraph as well as that a paragraph should start about when he is starting to write about a new subject. He can end with ‘sincerely’ or ‘your’s truly’ or ‘love’ or any kind of simple parting he wants, and then he ends with his name. His full name if he’s being official, as well as his signature, but with Four he can be more simple if he wants to.

“Do I write… Four? Or Peter?” 

Peter’s pen hover’s just past ‘Dear’ to where he’s supposed to put Four’s name.

“Four is fine, but I usually write ‘IV’, and Four usually signs his letters ‘IV’.” Aunt Wanda says. She’s writing a letter of her own to Four, and she’s already on a second page. He left this afternoon, and Peter has no idea how she already has so much to write. But Peter does want to start the habit now, even if he doesn’t have much to say.

He signs the Letter Peter, and then stares at his name for two minutes. 

He puts a ‘V’ on the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit of a shorter chapter this time but I didn't want to drag it out :)   
> Also, don't worry, this won't be the last time we see Four.


	13. The New Staff

Walter Robotics is doing pretty good - not great, but good - and they got a nice bit of money from letting the automatons get upgrades. It’s enough, in fact, that Aunt Wanda announces a month after Four leaves that she’s finally been able to make time in her schedule to conduct interviews for two new staff members. 

“We need somebody to help Norman keep this place clean, and somebody to babysit the ‘bots while they’re out busking.” Aunt Wanda explains.

“Wanda-” The Jon starts but Aunt Wanda points an authoritative finger at him that makes him shut up right away.

“The Jon, you  _ know  _ this is the way things have always been. You are not allowed out of the manor without somebody watching you, and that’s not going to change any time soon.” Aunt Wanda says, leaving no room in her voice for argument. Peter frowns.

“Then why did Rabbit visit me when I was at the orphanage?” 

Steam practically  _ gushes  _ out of Rabbit as he suddenly sits ramrod straight in his seat and Aunt Wanda rounds on him. 

“He did  _ what?!”  _ Her voice is just barely below what would qualify as a yell. Rabbit laughs nervously and joltingly.

“I h-h-have no idea wha-t-t Peter is talking ab-b-b-bout.” Rabbit says in the least believable lie ever told. 

“Peter, Rabbit  _ visited  _ you? In  _ broad daylight?”  _ Aunt Wanda turns the question over to Peter, who has a feeling like he’s somehow stumbled in front of a cannon and now has to figure out how to get away from it without drawing enough attention to get a cannonball to the chest.

“Not broad daylight,” Peter is quick to assure Aunt Wanda, making placating gestures with his hands, “It was always the middle of the night, and I barely even knew he was there! I guess it was a little less like visiting and a bit more like stalking?” 

“Rabbit, we had a  _ talk  _ about this!” Aunt Wanda slouches forward in her seat, head held in her hands. 

“T-t-technically, you and-and Three had a talk about-t-t this and I s-sat there in standby m-mode.” Rabbit corrects, slowly and clearly in the knowledge that he is not making his situation any better but not able to stop himself even if it meant sparring himself some future backlash. 

“I live with a bunch of five-year olds.” Aunt Wanda groans. “This, this right here, this is why we need more staff.” 

“I might have a huge eye, but even I can’t keep it on all three of them all the time,” Norman agrees, “And having an extra hand around would be great. This is far too big a house for one person to try and keep well-dusted, you know.” 

And then the next three days are filled with interviews.

Well, filled is a bit of an overstatement. When Aunt Wanda said she had time off for the interviews, she didn’t actually mean days off. What she really meant was that she came home around 3:00 pm, had about thirty minutes to fix her hair and check her makeup and slip on more comfortable shoes while Norman wheels out all the school stuff from the dining room and puts out some small snack foods like crackers and slides cheeses and platters with assorted vegetables on them. 

“They’re making a first impression on us, but we’re also making a first impression on them.” Norman explains when Peter asks about it, piling cracker-cheese-cracker-cheese for several layers and then trying to fit the whole thing in his mouth, ending up with a mess of crumbs he then has to clean up. 

“But Aunt Wanda isn’t trying to get a job from them.” Peter points out. 

“Well, yes, and if this was one of the people at Walter Robotics it probably wouldn’t matter as much, but we’re not employing these people for Walter Robotics so much as we’re employing them to be working almost daily far more directly with us. So first impressions are everything.” 

This, Norman also explains, is why he is the one that answers the door when each of the interviewees arrive. He doesn’t put on a shirt like he did at the funeral, he doesn’t make himself scarce and barely even heard like when Ms. Wilson is over or even like when Four was there. 

There are a lot of interviews. None of them go for longer than maybe forty minutes. Some never make it to the dining room, in fact. Those ones either leave on their own when they see Norman, or make some kind of comment to Aunt Wanda about him makes Aunt Wanda’s smile freeze and then turn down and her to say, coldly, that she doesn’t want to see them at Walter Manor ever again. No, they will not be hearing back from her about either open position.

Mr. Teizo Okada is the fourth person they interview on the first day.

He’s wearing a suit that, while nice, is also clearly one he’s owned for a long while. He has a scar that runs along his cheek and a million others that cut across his hands. He makes it from the front door to the interview process when he gives Norman a bow of his head and a ‘thank you’. He has black hair with bits of gray flecked all throughout it. His hands, it is worth mentioning, are rough. It’s what Peter notices when he shakes the man’s hand.

Oh, yeah, Aunt Wanda asked Peter to sit in on the interviews. 

She sits across from Mr. Okada, hands clasped on the table in front of her, with Peter sitting right next to her. He’s been given a piece of paper and a pencil, and when he asked if he was supposed to be taking notes Aunt Wanda had laughed and ruffled his hair and said no, of course not. If he got bored he could draw or something., and if he really  _ really  _ got bored he was welcome to leave, but Aunt Wanda honestly wanted his input on the people she was planning to hire. 

Mr. Okada sits down, eyes going over the food, but doesn’t touch anything until Aunt Wanda smiles kindly and waves a hand out over it.

“Please, Mr. Okada, feel free to have some of the prepared food.” Aunt Wanda insists. Slowly, Mr. Okada reaches forward and takes one of the crackers, placing a slice of cheese on top and eating in small bites. He raises his eyebrows at Aunt Wanda expectantly. 

“So, you are Ms. Wanda Walter?” He asks after Aunt Wanda doesn’t say anything, waiting patiently for him to finish eating and him eating slowly to give her time to say something. 

“It’s actually Wanda Hottie, but I’ll still answer to ‘Walter’ or ‘Ms. Walter’. You can just call me Wanda, though.” She assures him and Mr. Okada nods slowly. 

“Well, assuming we see eachother again after today, you can call me Ted,” Mr. Okada says, “Most people do.”

“How very nice to meet you, Ted.” Aunt Wanda smiles and reaches across the table, hand outstretched, and Ted shakes it. “This is Peter, he’s my nephew. If you get the job, you’ll be working closely with him as well.” 

“Very nice to meet you, Peter.” Ted puts his hand out to Peter, who shakes it and feels the calloused roughness of the man’s hand. “How old are you?”

“Ten, almost eleven.” He says and does his best not to mumble it. First impressions and all that. 

“Ted, it says here that you are willing to take up either position.” Aunt Wanda reads from the man’s job application. Ted nods. “Do you have a preference?”

“I’m not in a good state currently to  _ have  _ a preference; anything that’ll pay the bills’ll do fine.” Ted admits, “It’s not as if the job description for either were terribly specific.”

“Yes, I understand. I suppose the best question is just  _ how  _ musically talented you are. Anybody can sweep and dust, and both require even just the slightest bit of background in mechanics, but one doesn’t so much require music as it would be incredibly helpful if you have an understanding and appreciation for it.” Aunt Wanda explains, although ‘explains’ might be too kind a word. Nonetheless, Ted seems to understand what Aunt Wanda is saying well enough as he nods along. 

“Well, I’m somewhat of a handyman. I know my way around a wrench, and I may be an old dog but I’m willing to learn some new tricks if you’ll willing to be patient with an old man. But if I’m being honest here, I’m much more familiar with how to play instruments.” Ted admits. 

“Really, what kind of instruments?” Aunt Wanda learns forward curiously.

“Mostly clarinet and saxophone, but I can figure my way around on a piano if I have to.” Ted says and Aunt Wanda nods. 

There are a bunch more questions after that that Peter doesn’t pay attention to, doodling on his paper as Aunt Wanda asks about Ted’s previous job experiences, why he isn’t currently employed, if he has any kind of ailments she should know about, whether or not he has a car of his own. On the question about his lack of current employment, he doesn’t answer right away and it’s enough for Peter to look up and see the look Ted is giving her. Aunt Wanda sighs and nods, saying,

“Yes, I know, but I have to hear you say it.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, things have improved in the last few years, but I’m  _ Asian,  _ Wanda, and it’s clear in both my name and my appearance.” 

She always ends the interviews the same way.

Aunt Wanda stands and leads him to the door, telling him that if he gets the job he’ll need to be willing to put up a lot of rambunctious people. ‘A glorified babysitter’, she always says, and Ted is one of the ones who actually laugh at the line, once again saying that any job - even a glorified babysitter job - is better than what he has right now. Norman is waiting by the door and opens it for them. 

“One last thing, Ted,” Aunt Wanda holds out her hand and Ted puts his own in it, somewhat cautious at not knowing where this is going as Aunt Wanda lets his hand just sit on her own. She then nods, and asks, “Ted, do your hands shake?”

“Not for the last ten years.” Ted replies. 

Sugar Tanaka comes in on the third day of interviews, the second of the day. 

Both Aunt Wanda and Peter had been snacking on the assorted food on the table. The first interview of the day had left early of her own volition after seeing Norman, which was just as well, but it left Aunt Wanda and Peter bored for a bit while they waited. 

“A car just pulled up!” Norman calls out and both Aunt Wanda and Peter finish stuffing another cracker and cherry tomato into their mouths to rush over to the door, taking another look at the application of the next person. 

Sugar Tanaka is one of the younger applicants. When Norman answers the door, she noticeably flinches when she sees him and regards him with obvious mistrust. 

“Right, I’m hideous.” Norman says and nods. Peter is half expecting this one to start running off as well. 

“N-no, it’s, uh, I was just… surprised, is all.” Sugar says, hands out placatingly. “Um, this is the Walter Manor, right?”

“Yes, it is.” Aunt Wanda strides forward now, making her presence known, and Peter follows behind her. “Hello, I’m Wanda. And you’re Sugar Tanaka?”

“Very nice to meet you, ma’am.” Sugar shakes Aunt Wanda’s hand. 

“Follow me, we’ll be conducting your interview in the dining room.” 

They let Sugar snack on some of the food laid out before the interview actually starts. Sugar compliments the spread, seeming to have something good to say about everything on the table. 

“And who’s the little cutie next to you?” Sugar smiles at Peter and winks and Peter ducks his head in the worst attempt to try and hide his blush. 

“I’m Peter.” Peter doesn’t succeed in not mumbling this time, and it takes a nudge from Aunt Wanda to get him to stand up and reach out across the table to shake Sugar’s hand. 

“Lovely to meet you, Peter. Is he one of the rascals that I’m supposed to keep an eye on?” Sugar asks Aunt Wanda. Aunt Wanda laughs. 

“I guess you could say that, but they’re actually less ‘little’ and much more ‘rascal’. Now, did you have a position in mind when you applied? We have the one going out and assisting three people in busking, and the more maid-centered job.” Aunt Wanda asks. 

“Oh, I have absolutely no musical talent. I could find middle c on a piano if my life depended on it!” Sugar giggles. 

“But you do know what middle c is.” Aunt Wanda points out. Sugar waves a dismissive hand.

“My brother plagued our house bassoon music all throughout my childhood. I’m familiar with music, just not with any actual talent myself.” Sugar assures Aunt Wanda.

“What would you say your talents are, then.” Aunt Wanda asks. Sugar leans forward conspiratorially. 

“If I can be honest with you, Wanda, I’m interested in the part of the position that asked for some background in mechanics. My dad worked on cars his whole life, and he always let me help him out when I could. It’s… well, I’m sure you’re aware of how difficult it can be for a girl to find a job like that. And I haven’t really gotten any formal training yet - oh, but I hope to! I just need the time - and a job.” 

There’s more boring questions. Peter doodles during them and sneaks looks up at Sugar. It’s occurred to him over the past few days that it’s been a long time since he’s seen anybody that didn’t live in Walter Manor, and Sugar is one of the prettiest people he’s probably seen his whole life.

At the door, Sugar still looks cautiously at Norman, but with the utmost hesitance shakes Norman’s hand. 

“Do your hands shake?” Aunt Wanda asks. 

“Nope! Steady as can be.” Sugar tells Aunt Wanda and lets her hold her hands. 

Both Sugar and Ted show up for work a week later, 7:30 am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally stole those names from a book about the internment camps because I was too lazy to do real research into asian names in america in the 1950's.   
> anyway, a few things. first off, sorry for the wait, I've had a lot of homework recently and it's been real tough.  
> second, i was planning to skip this chapter by, but then realizes i had to write it, so that's another reason I was thrown back a bit.  
> third, I'm not sure if/when the next chapter will be. I've fallen so much in love with this story, that I kind of want to adapt it to work in my own universe?


End file.
